


Book of Love

by SMITSJUSTAJAYREALLY



Series: HOLY Series [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Angst with a Happy Ending, Aziraphale Has PTSD (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Bathtub Sex, Burning vehicle, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Drugging, Drugs, Established Relationship, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Guns, Gunshot Wounds, Homophobia, Horror images in a nightmare, Hurt Aziraphale (Good Omens), Hurt Crowley (Good Omens), Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Messy first time giving a blowjob, Other, Overdose, Panic Attacks, Past Sexual Abuse, Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens), Protective Crowley (Good Omens), Racism, Sequel to H.O.L.Y., Sexual Harassment, Slut Shaming, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-17 07:15:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 14
Words: 57,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28596069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SMITSJUSTAJAYREALLY/pseuds/SMITSJUSTAJAYREALLY
Summary: Sequel to H.O.L.Y (High on Loving You)Two days after the proposal in HOLY we pick up with our boys. Aziraphale deals with issues from the church in the Bible Belt about their wedding while also still dealing with nightmares and PTSD.It doesn’t help matters when it seems like they are under attack. Harassment, violence and mayhem seem to keep plaguing their lives.
Relationships: Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer, Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Gabriel (Good Omens), Beelzebub/Pollution (Good Omens)
Series: HOLY Series [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2095002
Comments: 4
Kudos: 28





	1. Take Me to Church

**Author's Note:**

> Title of the fic is a beautiful Peter Gabriel song. Title of the chapter is a Hozier song.
> 
>  **If my story looks familiar it’s because it probably is. I had a different AO3 account when I started writing. It got deleted for personal reasons and this new one started. All the fics from the old account got moved to here** ❤️💜💙🧡💚💛

**Monday Two Days After the proposal**

Crowley wakes to the horrible beeping of his digital alarm clock, and Aziraphale reaching over him to shut it off. "Good morning."

He opens one eye to see two bright blue pools staring back at him, causing Crowley's mouth to quirk up in a lopsided grin. As much as he hates leaving the bed, he loves waking to Aziraphale's face. Milky skin he knows is soft to the touch, eyes that can bring Crowley to his knees, take control of his mind and bend him to their owners will. Lips, oh Aziraphale's lips, so soft, so pink, and his angel always tastes so good. Better than fine foods and wine, and things Crowley can never afford to give him.

"Good morning gorgeous." Crowley reaches his arms out, pretending to stretch, and instead wraps them around Aziraphale, burying his face in his Angel's chest. The blond sighs, pressing a kiss to the top of Crowley's head, before pulling away, and leaving the bed. Crowley lets out an exaggerated whine and reaches after him, rolling onto his stomach. "Come back."

"I love you, Anthony, but we go through this every morning." Aziraphale tuts. "You'll have plenty of me tonight. Now get up." He swats at Crowley's skinny backside.

"Hmmph." Crowley slams his face into one of the pillows. "Fine!" His voice muffled. "You showerin' first?"

"I suppose I could." Aziraphale grabs a powder pink button down shirt, and cream slacks from the closet. He stops in the doorway. "Unless you'd like to join me?"

Crowley jerks his head up so quickly, he thinks he hears something crack. Aziraphale is looking over his shoulder at him, coquettish smile, eyes glittering.

"I'm up!" He scrambles quickly, throwing off the comforter to chase a giggling angel down the hallway.

* * *

Aziraphale's life is a dream. He's safe, maddeningly in love and engaged to the most wonderful man. He watches as Crowley towels off, water dripping from his shoulder length red hair, lean muscles in his back flexing as he moves the towel over his body. Aziraphale steps up behind him, naked as well, pressing himself against Crowley's back, tracing kisses over his fiances shoulders.

Crowley relaxes into him. "Wanting more, Angel?"

"Oh, yes love." Aziraphale sighs. "But unfortunately there's not enough time." He glances to the clock above the sink. They have thirty minutes until Crowley's shift. "Tonight?"

Crowley turns to face him, one hand reaches into Aziraphale's damp curls, thumb tracing carefully over his scar. The other cups his face, as beautiful honey eyes stare into Aziraphale's, flicking back and forth as if searching for hidden treasures there. "Absolutely."

They stand in the bathroom, surrounded by steam. Crowley brings their lips together and Aziraphale parts his allowing Crowley's velvet tongue to dance seductively with his own. After several minutes, Crowley moves his head back, leaving their bodies pressed tightly together. "Until tonight."

* * *

Half an hour Crowley's pick up parks outside of **Beez Mechanical** , Aziraphale vibrating with excitement. Crowley walks to the passenger side and offers his hand to the flush faced beauty, who immediately scans the parking lot of the garage.

"Beez isn't here yet." Aziraphale says, sounding more than a little disappointed. His face brightens when he notices a small blue sedan on three wheels and a black Chevy Silverado. "Oh but I can show Newt and Jake!"

Beez has hired two more mechanics since Newt. Jake is a stocky man, around six foot tall, shaved head and black goatee. Insufferable if he starts talking politics, but aside with that a pretty okay guy. The other, Jordan, walks to work, so he is more than likely here too. He is tall and lanky around six foot three, with light brown hair. Jordan is more easy going than Jake, but both work well with the team.

Crowley holds the door for Aziraphale, who smiles sweetly at him as he walks past. Entering the front waiting room, Newt is behind the counter setting up the cash register. He nods in greeting, while counting the money for the till. Once finished, he shuts the drawer to the old machine and walks around the counter to Crowley and shakes his hand. "Congratulations!" Turning to Aziraphale. "So? Let me see it."

Aziraphale beams and offers his left hand. Crowley thinks Aziraphle's beauty right now is more blinding than the sun, and that the ring is much too plain for someone like his Angel. He sighs thinking about it. The ring with the little angel wings is the very best he can afford. Beez is a great boss, but they can only pay $11 an hour, and have no way to offer health benefits. Crowley wants to build a family with Aziraphale, and to do so he will need to find a better job. He plans on discussing that very subject with Aziraphale soon.

"Have you chosen a date yet?" Jake asks, stepping in from the door to the garage followed by Jordan, who waves his hand indicating Aziraphale should show him the ring as well.

"Not yet." Aziraphale walks to where both men stand, hand outstretched. He glances over his shoulder to Crowley. "It's all so new right now, but we will most definitely be researching."

Crowley nods, the corner of his mouth turning upward. At that moment the front door of the shop opens and Beez walks in, face stern. "Why are you all standing around? We have a total of four cars in the back, one of which has to be finished today. And since I'll be down a..." They pause looking at Crowley apologetically for a fraction of a second. They've agreed to let Crowley slip out of work these past two weeks after Aziraphale leaves, and nearly ruined the whole thing. "Get to work!" They bark.

Jake puts his hands up backing through the door to the garage, Jordan gives a thumbs up and follows. They are followed by Newt who had paled the moment Beez walked in the shop.

"See you tonight." Crowley kisses Aziraphale on the cheek, and follows the other men to the garage. Before stepping through the door, he looks back to see Aziraphale's left hand in Beez's. _Imagine that_. Beez is looking from Aziraphale's face to the ring and back, smiling.

* * *

Aziraphale is scrolling through the work computer when Anathema walks behind the large curved desk. "I wanna see, I wanna see." She pulls up a chair beside his. He holds out his left hand and she squeals.

"Shhhhhh, dear." He laughs.

She places her hand over her heart. "It's so pretty."

Aziraphale stares dreamily at the ring. "It really is." He sighs looking up at Anathema. "Anthony is more than I could have ever dreamt of really. He's perfect." He says reverently.

She rubs her hand over his back. "No man is perfect." She winks. "But you did catch one of the better ones." Anathema turns to the computer screen. "Now, what are we lookin at?"

"I'm attempting to find books and/or magazines to help in researching and planning my wedding." Aziraphale studies the screen. It's so hard to find anything on google in regards to what he wants. It's all about celebrity weddings, or locations and venues he and Crowley could never afford.

"Oh, don't do that." Anathema waves her hand. "I'll bring you all the stuff I used to plan my wedding."

She and Newt had married three months earlier. It had been an absolutely gorgeous affair, held at a large Catholic church in Gallipolis, Ohio, 35 minutes east of Oak Hill. Although Anathema practices Wicca, her father is Catholic, and since he was fronting the bill he demanded they keep it traditional to the family. Anathema says she doesn't mind, but part of Aziraphale hurts for her.

"Oh that would be wonderful." Aziraphale takes her hand. "I do suppose I should get established with a church as well."

Anathema suddenly looks horrified. "I don't know about that hun."

Aziraphale feels a pang of guilt. “Although I don't show it as well as I should, I'll have you know I've always been very devout. I speak with Her everyday, and I know She’s the reason I'm alive and happy."

Anathema watches him with pity. "That's not what I meant, Aziraphale." She squeezes his hand. "I know you're a Godly man, I'm just not sure you should subject yourself to the churches around here."

"Pshhh." Aziraphale waves her words away. "I've attended churches in the city, they can't be that different here."

"Okay." Anathema stands to shelve a few books. "Just don't take the shit they say to heart.”

* * *

**Saturday, 5 Days Later**

Crowley wakes to sunlight filtering through the bedroom's thin curtains. Looking to the digital clock to his left it reads 7:18AM. Turning his head to the right, he sees Aziraphale sleeping soundly on his side, hands clasping the comforter near his face.

_He really does look like an angel._ Crowley smiles, and slowly so as not to disturb his fiancé, slides out of bed. He picks up his phone where it's charging on the dresser and slips out of the room, quietly closing the door.

Crowley walks through the living room, typing away in a group text.

**Crowley:** _Is it a go?_

Entering the kitchen he flicks the button on the coffee maker to brew.

**Sal:** _Yep, got next week off._

**Bri:** _Me too._

**Andrew:** _So we’re nearly done with our end. There should be room to put everything when you get back._

Crowley walks with a cup of coffee to the front porch, settling onto the swing. They had all worked out early on that it would be best to keep the group chat vague. Not that he thinks Aziraphale will snoop in his phone, but it’s best to be safe.

**Crowley:** _Yeah, thank Beez for being so cool. Although I think it’s because it’s for Aziraphale._

**Alexis:** _Hasn’t he noticed its gone?_

 **Crowley:** _Nope. He never goes out there. BTW, Bri and Sal remember to get that money from me before you leave on Sunday._

**Bri:** _I'll have Shane get it from you on friday while he's helping on your end._

**Crowley:** _Awesome! Oh, Sal Jake’s been asking about you again._

Crowley chuckles.

**Sal:** _Course he has._ 🙄

**Brie:** 😘

**Crowley:** _LOL. Well I’m gonna hop. Go make breakfast before Aziraphale wakes up. Thank you so much for all of this guys._

**Andrew:** _Gotcha. TTYL man_.

**Sal:** _NP. Bye._

**Bri:** ❤️

**Alexis:** 😊

* * *

_Aziraphale had tripped. He hadn’t meant to trip. Standing in the lovely courtyard amongst Gabriel’s associates, he had stood quietly in the background. Smiling when Gabriel smiled, laughing when Gabriel laughed. Stand up straight, suck in your gut, be the perfect backdrop to Gabriel’s aesthetic._

_The lovely young lady had offered Aziraphale a glass of wine, and Gabriel had nodded his approval. Aziraphale had taken it, sipping slowly. Never move too quickly, never let anyone notice you. You’re here to enhance and never take away._

_A rather robust man had pushed past Aziraphale quickly, causing him to pitch forward. He couldn’t stop it, couldn’t freeze time to save himself. He couldn’t regain his footing in time before the blood red liquid, that crimson pool, stained Gabriel’s lavender jacket._

_Violet eyes flared, an icy threat hidden behind a forced smile. “Never good on your feet, are you sunshine?” Gabriel had laughed, so Aziraphale forced a laugh too. Forced to hide his terror with a smile. Don’t make it worse._

_Now behind the closed doors of their apartment Aziraphale is stripped of all clothing and slammed against the bedroom wall. One hand gripping his bicep hard enough to bruise, the other on his throat. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it! Please forgive, please.”_

_“Stupid bitch.” Gabriel snarls, tightening his grip around Aziraphale’s throat._

_Aziraphale tries to plead but all that comes out is a strangled whisper. The sound does something to Gabriel who smiles and tightens the grip. Aziraphale’s vision grows fuzzy. He fears he's going to die and against his better judgement he tries to claw out of Gabriel’s grasp._

_He hears his partner laugh. This man who’s supposed to love him. Who lied so many years ago and said he did love him, laughs._

_“Feeling frisky are we? My fat little whore.” And the Gabriel’s kissing him, and choking him at the same time. Aziraphale feels the tears wetting his face and that seems to excite Gabriel all the more, resulting in him releasing Aziraphale, and dropping him to the floor._

_Aziraphale is trying to breath, remember how that bodily function works, when Gabriel grabs him by the hair and throws him on the bed._

_“You’re going to like this, aren’t you sunshine?”_

_Aziraphale nods, not sure if this time Gabriel wants him to make sound or not. He feels the ringing impact of a fist to the side of his face. “Aren’t you?”_

_“Yes.” Aziraphale sobs.“Yes“_

_He hears the zipper, and then Gabriel hard and dry forcing into him. Aziraphale cries out in pain, and the sound seems to excite Gabriel all the more. “Don’t act like you don’t like that, you love it. Worthless fucking whore.”_

_Then Gabriel’s hands are on his biceps again holding him down. Aziraphale screams as it feels like his insides are being flayed._

Aziraphale wakes with a start. _Just a dream. Another horrible dream._ He can hear the faint sound of Crowley singing, and the smell of coffee and pancakes. He sits up on the side of the bed and takes a moment to collect himself. There is no reason to ruin a perfectly good Saturday morning if he doesn't need. God knows Crowley has suffered through enough sleep broken nights with him. So Aziraphale will spare him another tainted morning if he can. Crowley wants to help, begs to help and all Aziraphale ever gives him is _I'm sorry. I can't explain it. Not now, not yet. Maybe someday._ But it's never that day. Aziraphale's not sure if it will ever be that day. He doesn't know how to begin to talk about the random memories that terrorize his sleep and sometimes follow him into the waking world. The way he wants to scream and punch something when the pressure inside builds, causing his muscles to ache and his skin to burn. How he feels he is being suffocated and crushed within his own body and mind. Honestly Aziraphale's pretty damn sure talking about it won't help at all.

There is only one thing that calms that storm, and he is lovely with red hair and gentle hands. Spindly and tall with strong arms and a soft voice. Crowley is Aziraphale's balm, his cure for the disease that ravages his mind, and Aziraphale needs him right now.

Making his way out of bed in a white t-shirt and blue boxers, he grabs his bathrobe off the hook on the bedroom door. Once through the living room, Aziraphale leans his shoulder against the kitchen doorframe. Crowley's long hair is pulled back in a messy knot,he's wearing loose, black sweatpants, a black a-shirt, and his feet are bare as he dances around the kitchen while he cooks. Aziraphale sees the cell phone on the counter, wireless ear buds in Crowley's ears, and can't help his smile. _My, God he's beautiful._

Crowley half mumbles, half sings the words of a song Aziraphale vaguely remembers him playing in the truck.

_This is where I am now. Nothing can take this from me, not anymore._

He watches for a few minutes more, before Crowley looks up and notices him there. His face lights up as he removes the ear buds and lays them beside his phone.

"Good morning, gorgeous." Crowley walks to the doorway and takes Aziraphale in his arms. He places a gentle kiss to the blond's lips before returning to the food. "Food's almost ready. I was gonna surprise you with breakfast in bed." Crowley looks at Aziraphale apologetically. "Guess I messed that up, eh?"

Aziraphale raises one eyebrow. "Is today a special occasion?"

Crowley turns off the stove, setting the plate of pancakes on the table. Crowley had purchased it a month back. _It's not a bachelor pad anymore, Angel. Need to set the place up for a family._ Crowley is nesting and the thought causes something warm to spread in Aziraphale's chest.

Crowley opens the refrigerator. "Well, yes and no." He picks up the butter and milk, and moves them to set beside the pancakes. "There are some things I'd like for us to discuss. Something I'd like to do, that I want your approval on."

Aziraphale takes his seat and watches Crowley turn to the cupboard above the stove and retrieve the syrup. Placing the bottle on the table he slips into his own chair and takes Aziraphale's hand.

"So this whole getting married thing, means changes." He clears his throat. "Small changes, big changes." Crowley's thumb is running over the back of Aziraphale's knuckles. "Our jobs don't offer health benefits. I know that's not a problem now, but it's something we will need in the future. And if we decide to have a kid one day, well adoption and all the years following will be expensive."

"A kid?" Aziraphale whispers the words. Of course he had daydreamed about it since meeting Crowley, but hearing him saying it is jolting.

Crowley stiffens and releases his hand, running his fingers through fire red hair and destroying his bun even more. "Not right now, course. Just was hoping we would both want a child or children someday."

Aziraphale realizes how his initial reaction must have looked. He smiles warmly, hoping to convey how much he really does want that too. "Oh yes. I would love that." After a brief pause he adds. "So what exactly are you asking me?"

"I want to take the civil service test." Crowley rushes through the words, as if he's afraid Aziraphale will stop him. "ACF is hiring, and Sal says if I pass the test they can get me on at ACF.

ACF is the prison in which Sal works. Over the past year they have gotten on as an OJT coach, someone who trains new hires when they come in, and the rest of the time works their dorm like any other CO. They're well liked and Aziraphale knows that it would be easy for them to get their cousin hired.

"Oh, I don't know, Anthony." The thought terrifies him. Prisons are dangerous, just watch any movie. And the thought of his beautiful Crowley in the middle of that world, causes Aziraphale to feel sick.

Crowley holds up his hand. "Wait, just hear me out." He stares at Aziraphale imploringly. "Sal says it's no where near as bad as movies and tv make you think. They do that for the drama." Honey eyes are wide and begging. "I'll be making over $20 an hour, great health benefits for me and my spouse." Crowley's eyebrows raise hopefully. "After a year I'll get vacation and sick days, so that even if I have to miss work, I still get paid like I'm there."

Crowley stands and walks to where Aziraphale sits and kneels beside him. "It still won't be as much as you deserve, but I'll be able to offer you a better life than the one we have now. A life with more available to you." His brow furrows. "Please let me do this, Angel. It'll make me happy."

That's it, how can Aziraphale deny him? Crowley who gives him everything, requesting just this one thing. The only thing besides Aziraphale's love he's asked for since they've met. And the one thing he wants is so he can give Aziraphale more.

"You're amazing, Anthony." He cups Crowley's face, pulling him into his lap and a kiss. "I don't deserve you." Aziraphale whispers against his lips.

Crowley shifts, draping his arms over Aziraphale's shoulders. "Is that a yes or no?" He slides his fingers carefully through Aziraphale's hair.

Aziraphale nods. "Do what you think best dear heart. I trust you."

* * *

**Sunday, The Next Morning**

T _his is going to go wrong, so terribly, terribly wrong._ Crowley thinks as he straightens his shirt sleeves. He's wearing black, pressed trousers, a crimson long sleeve button down, and a thin black tie. His hair pulled half up, half down.

Crowley watches Aziraphale as he fusses with his hair in the bathroom mirror. His Angel is a beautiful contrast to himself, in beige trousers, baby blue long sleeve button down, and beige velvet waistcoat. Around his neck a tartan tie.

"Don't look so sad, Anthony." Aziraphale gently scolds watching him through the reflection. "I'm not marching us to our deaths. It's just church."

"You've not been to church in the Bible Belt, Angel." He winds his arms around Aziraphale's waist and sets his chin on his angel's shoulder. "They'll be vicious in the most passive-aggressive ways." Crowley mumbles watching Aziraphale's face in the mirror. "They'll degrade and shame us, all while claiming it's out of love."

Aziraphale lays his head against Crowley's. "They've really hurt you, haven't they?" He grasps the slender hands clasped over his stomach.

Crowley hugs him tighter. "S'alright, Angel." He presses a kiss to Aziraphale's shoulder. "I don't want them to hurt you too."

"Maybe things are different now?" Aziraphale asks hopefully. "You did say you haven't been in eleven years, and I do so want a church wedding."

Crowley sighs. "Okay, let's give it a try."

Aziraphale smiles and his face shines like the sun.

In the foyer, Crowley throws on his black leather jacket and helps Aziraphale into his white tweed, long coat. As he locks the front door, Crowley silently prays. _Don't let them break his heart._

* * *

"Oh, isn't it lovely!" Aziraphale gasps as Crowley parks the truck. Freedom Baptist is a long white building, with red brick at the base. It sets in the middle of town, surrounded by houses and the local elementary school. From left to right, large windows spread across the structure, until reaching the entrance. Here is a double door of painted white wood, and large oval glass covered in decorative white film. A small roof extends over the entrance, held up by two large, white columns. Beautiful, well tended trees and bushes line the front of the structure.

Aziraphale beams as Crowley helps him down from the truck. As soon as his feet are on the pavement, Aziraphale slots his arm around Crowley's offered elbow. Aziraphale lays his free hand on Crowley's upper arm and gives a gentle squeeze. Crowley's mouth is pursed tightly and Aziraphale can see the nervous twitch of his jaw. He has opted to wear his sunglasses, so any emotions that might be found in his eyes are currently indiscernible.

Crowley opens the decorative door, and they step into a large foyer with white walls and deep red carpet. To the right are the restrooms, and two more doors. One is closed, but the other is open to reveal a nursery. To their left is a large doorway opening into the large sanctuary. Twenty long pews set on each side, and to each side are white walls lined with the floor to ceiling windows Aziraphale had seen from the outside. Behind the altar is a podium with large tv monitors on each side and two long rows of seating inhabited by the choir. A drum set and a piano to the choirs left, and computer and sound system to their right. A large wooden cross hangs on the back wall.

Both men take seats 10 pews back, on the right side. Crowley sets to the left of Aziraphale at the end of the pew, and protectively lays his arm across the back of his Angel's seat, right hand resting on Aziraphale's shoulder. Crowley still has his sunglasses on, Aziraphale gestures towards them. "Would you take those off dear? It seems disrespectful."

Crowley's lip twitches, but he does as he's asked, sliding the dark lenses into his shirt pocket. Aziraphale lays a hand on his knee. "Thank you." Crowley smiles at him fondly and opens his mouth to respond.

He is interrupted by a portly man, brown hair, early 40's. "Good morning," he offers his hand "Barney Shoemaker, I'm the pastor here. Always a pleasure to see new people in my congregation." His accent isn't the normal southern Ohio twang. It's a deeper south, maybe the Carolinas or Tennessee.

"Aziraphale Fell." He smiles and shakes the mans hand. "This is my fiancé, Anthony." He says gesturing towards Crowley.

Barney's mouth tightens into a line. "And what brings you to Freedom Baptist?

"Oh, I'm wishing to get established with a church." Aziraphale patters in his nervously excited way. "I’m wanting a place to worship and I want to officiate our union in a house of God." He glances at Crowley lovingly. "Once we decide upon a date."

Barney shifts his weight, his lips upturn in a tight smile. "Would you be willing to meet with me after the service? I go directly to my office while the assistant pastor gives the closing prayer." He points to the closed door on the other side of the foyer. "It's right that way."

"Oh yes, that would be lovely!" Aziraphale breathes the words out in relief. As the pastor leaves to take his place at the front, Aziraphale looks over at Crowley. "See, Anthony, perhaps things have changed.”

Crowley's arm pulls Aziraphale just a little closer to him. "I hope so, Angel."

* * *

The service starts well. The choir leads the singing and the congregation is welcome to join. The music is modern Christian contemporary, and although neither Aziraphale nor Crowley know the songs, the lyrics are displayed on the large monitors in the front.

Once the sermon begins it all goes to shit. Like most churches in the area, the message is less about God's love and more about politics and man-made beliefs. A system set up by a heteronormative, white washed, patriarchy.

Crowley hears Aziraphale gasp and look over to him horrified, when Barney Shoemaker makes racist comments about the people of Islam. Can feel his own blood boil when the sermon turns into a homophobic rant. Crowley sees Aziraphale pale as this so called man of God, tells his flock that both groups of people are the enemy, and all good Christians should hate, and shun, and fight.

And Crowley hates, he hates the devastated look in Aziraphale's sky blue eyes. Hates the snide looks and low whispers directed at the both of them since Crowley's arm wrapped around Aziraphale's shoulder. Hates the man standing at the front, spewing vitriol in a calm sing song voice.

The moment everyone's heads are bowed in closing prayer, Crowley grabs Aziraphale's hand, and pulls him out of the pew. He wants to get them out of the building before anyone can catch them to 'chat'. Watching that Barney doesn't come out of his office, they round the corner and head for the exit doors. Crowley's heart drops, and Aziraphale takes his arm with his free hand and grips it tightly at the sight of Barney standing in front of the double doors, blocking their only exit.

"Would you gentlemen still care to meet in my office?" He says smiling, as if it wasn't obvious they are trying to get the hell away from him.

His Angel stiffens, the grip on Crowley's hand tightens. "No, no." Aziraphale shakes his head and tries to politely smile. "I do believe we've changed our minds."

Barney's face looks genuinely concerned. "I really wish you would both take the time to chat."

Crowley's lips pulls back in a snarl, his voice strained. "He said, we changed our minds."

"Alright." Barney steps aside and lets Crowley pass. Pushing through the door, he hears the pastor say, "You'll burn in Hell."

Crowley looks back and his vision goes red. Aziraphale stands stiff and pale. Frightened, eyes wide with that far off look that Crowley has only ever seen after one of his nightmares. Barney Shoemaker has taken hold of his Angel's bicep, and won't let go, while spewing his nonsense at the one thing on earth Crowley will kill for.

Instead he takes the fat bigoted asshole by the wrist and growls. "Let him go. You have zero right to touch him."

Barney looks offended, but releases his grip. Crowley withdraws his hand from the pastor's wrist and puts an arm around his fiancé. They make it only a few steps before Aziraphale falters. He is still pale, almost gray, and he's breathing heavily and grasping his chest. "Something's wrong Anthony."

"Angel?" Crowley holds Aziraphale tighter, his angel's skin turning a sickly palour.

"I can't...…..I can't breathe." Aziraphale's legs give causing him to fall into Crowley.

Oh God, oh God, oh God.

“Call 9-1-1!” Crowley screams at the crowd of parishioners now milling at the door. He settles himself onto the concrete holding Aziraphale against himself tightly. “I’ve got you, Angel. Just breath for me sweetheart, just breath.”


	2. Stand By You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley comforts his Angel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this chapter is a Rachel Platten song. A lot of fluff and smut in this one. Mentioned my second favorite tv series in this chapter only because it’s true that all Appalachians watch it, you’re considered weird around here if you don’t lol. Hope you enjoy the new chapter! ❤️💚

**3 Hours Later**

Aziraphale feels like such a fool.

“Panic attack.” The doctor had told him. “No reason to be embarrassed. Many people suffer from anxiety, who have been through a lot less than you.” She had prescribed him a low dose of medication, which she said would help. “It may even ease off the nightmares, but no guarantee. It should help during the daytime hours, but it may take two weeks or more before you see any effect.”

"You must let me pay for all this, I know emergency rooms and squads are extremely expensive." Aziraphale says as they leave the hospital. In all the time they've been together, Crowley rarely lets Aziraphale pay for anything besides helping with utilities. He had told Crowley of the remaining $50,000 of the money he'd hidden away before leaving Gabriel.

_"That's your money, angel. What's left of a gift from your father. I'd never feel right if you spent it on me."_

"We'll see. Don't worry about it now." Crowley rubs a hand, soothingly over Aziraphale's back as they walk with Alexis to her car.

"I'm so sorry, Anthony," Aziraphale wants to cry from embarrassment, but he's already made enough of a scene today. Crowley must be so ashamed of him, must think Aziraphale so very weak. He looks up into remarkable golden eyes, on a concerned face with a gentle smile.

_He looks at me like I'm going to break._ Aziraphale drops his eyes to the ground. _Really I can't blame him. I am broken._

Crowley opens the front passenger door of Alexis’ car for Aziraphale and settles himself into the back. In all the earlier chaos, Crowley had insisted on being with Aziraphale through the entire ordeal. They couldn't let him in the back of the squad, that would've hindered the EMT from doing her job. Crowley had been permitted to ride up front, leaving his truck in the church parking lot. It helped that Andrew had also responded when he heard the emergency call go out. He is acquainted with a number of the other first responders in the area. Crowley had told Aziraphale later that Andrew had a little discussion about personal boundaries with Barney Shoemaker before leaving the church.

Alexis had been in the waiting room when both men had left the ER. Andrew had called and asked her to give them a ride back to the truck. As she and Crowley chat during the ride Aziraphale's mind wanders and he stares blankly out the window. It had felt so real. His arm and face had gone numb. his chest hurt, he couldn't breath. Crowley, always so patient, so gentle, had told him not to worry, that it was the pastor's fault what happened today. Crowley never blames Aziraphale for anything, no matter how much heartache he seems to cause to everyone around him.

“I'm sorry you've had to go through so much, Angel.” As if Crowley hadn't been forced to go through it too. “I'm here for anything you need. I'm just glad you're okay.”

Aziraphale glances over to the stunning woman driving. What must she think of me? The others? His mind wanders to the small group of people in such a large family, that are more like siblings than cousins. He doesn't deserve all that these wonderful people have given him. Aziraphale turns his gaze back out the window. The vibrating ache starts to course through his blood, muscle and bone.

After the thirty minute ride Alexis parks beside the red pick-up in the otherwise empty church lot. Crowley thanks her again, exiting his seat and opening the front passenger door. Aziraphale turns to the lovely woman to his left. "Thank you again. I hope you don't think less of me."

Alexis lays a gentle hand on Aziraphale's shoulder. "Not at all, and you're very welcome Aziraphale." He nods before turning to Crowley and taking his hand.

"Love you Lex. Thanks." Crowley waves a hand at her as he shuts the door. Alexis drives away as they both walk slowly to the truck. Once seated, Aziraphale finally allows himself to cry.

"Hey, hey." Crowley hurriedly pulls himself up into the seat. He reaches towards Aziraphale who slides on the bench seat to set flush beside him. Putting his arms around Aziraphale, Crowley holds him, placing soft lips against his Angel's temple. "I've got you. Whatever you need, Aziraphale, I've got you."

"Just take me home, Anthony. I want to go to bed." Aziraphale knows how pathetic he sounds, it's barely 5pm. Crowley doesn't comment, instead he removes his arm from Aziraphale's shoulder just long enough to start the truck and put it in drive.

* * *

Crowley can feel the tears through the sleeve of his shirt, the broken way his Angel breaths, and it breaks his heart. Aziraphale's been through too much and the whole damn world keeps piling more shit on him. Crowley wants to beat the shit out of Barney Shoemaker, almost as much as he had Gabriel Strong, but he isn't sure how it would affect Aziraphale. The last thing he wants is for his Angel to associate him with violence too. Aziraphale suffers from nightmares at least 3 times a week, sometimes more. Terrible images of punishments he never deserved, of being forced to lose things he loves. Crowley doesn't want to do anything that might cause Aziraphale's beautiful face to look at _him_ with the same terror and agony.

After what feels like an eternity, they make it home and into the house. As Crowley takes Aziraphale's coat, he asks. "You hungry?'

"No." Aziraphale takes off his shoes and sets them neatly by the door. "I just want to lie down." His voice sounds tired, his skin still a sickly gray. Dark circles have formed under his eyes and he looks so much older than his 29 years. Aziraphale turns and looks at him in that way which always crumbles the very foundation of Crowley's soul. "Will you hold me?"

_Does he seriously believe I wouldn't?_

"Course Angel." They change into their customary sleepwear, Crowley glances at the clock, 5:17pm. Doesn't matter, they won't be leaving the house for the rest of the day.

Crowley crawls under the comforter, laying on his back, arms open. Aziraphale lays his head and part of his upper torso across his fiancé's hard, warm chest. One of Crowley's hands sifts through soft, blond hair, the other ghosts the skin of Aziraphale's arm with his fingertips. Crowley can feel his Angel's breathing slow, and the gentle rhythm causes him to relax for the first time that day.

Two hours later, Crowley wakes to a dark room and the soft breaths of an angel, hugging him tightly in his sleep. Carefully, so as not to wake Aziraphale, Crowley slides out of bed, and quietly creeps out of the room shutting the door behind him.

Over the past year Aziraphale has added some furniture to the living room. Side tables at each end of the sofa, a large cedar chest in front of the large window and photos to the walls. Crowley grabs his phone from the side table nearest the archway, the group chat flooded with concerned texts for Aziraphale.

**Crowley:** _He's sleeping now. How's Project Recovery coming along?_

**Sal:** _We’re driving straight through. We switched off at the 8 hour point. We should be there by 10pm, 11pm at the latest. Bri's driving now, that's why I'm texting, obviously._

**Crowley:** _Obviously. What time did you leave?_

**Sal:** _5am. Bri says hi._

**Crowley:** _Tell her hi_.

**Andrew:** _When will you be back? It's ready, but we will need enough time to sort everything_.

**Crowley:** _I just hope I was able to give you enough money._

**Sal:** _The auction is tomorrow at 2pm. Hopefully we will be back Tuesday night, and can sort everything once he's at work on Wednesday. Don't worry Crowley, I'm sure we will get the whole bounty._

**Crowley:** _Thanks. Gonna go for now. Keep me updated and be careful._

* * *

Aziraphale opens his eyes to a dark room and an empty bed. He can see the flickering lights of the living room tv under the bedroom door. He looks at the clock, it's 9:23pm. Smiling, he knows exactly what Crowley will be watching on a Sunday night in October. In fact Aziraphale remembers tonight is the season premiere. When he opens the bedroom door, he is greeted by guttural sounds from the tv and Crowley sprawled across the sofa. His back propped on the armrest, right leg stretched across the cushions, left leg spread onto the floor. When he sees Aziraphale standing in the archway, Crowley pauses the DVR and sets up properly.

"How you feelin'?" Crowley keeps his voice soft, watching Aziraphale carefully.

"I'm better." He runs his fingers through wild curls. "Much better actually."

Crowley smiles and leans back into his former position, patting the space between his legs. "Come cuddle?" He gestures towards the tv. "I'll back it up to the beginning. Your boyfriend is in this one a lot." Crowley curls up his nose playfully.

Aziraphale discovered his first October in Oak Hill, that everyone in the area watches The Walking Dead. You weren't considered a true Appalachian if you didn't. Aziraphale spent three weeks binge watching every evening, so he could get caught up. Surprisingly, he actually enjoys it. If one can get past the gore, the story is one of survival, community, and not losing oneself in the worst of times. And to be totally honest, Aziraphale had taken a bit of a liking to Daryl Dixon.

"Don't be jealous, darling." Aziraphale teases as he settles between Crowley's legs, leaning back against his chest, tucking his head under Crowley's chin. "I seem to have an affinity for redneck men, who pretend to be badasses, but actually have hearts of gold."

"That so?" Crowley hums as he presses a kiss into Aziraphale’s hair.

They sit quietly and watch the program. Aziraphale traces circles over the back of Crowley's hands where they rest on his stomach. Hands so slender that Aziraphale's fingers bump over bone and vein. The nails are stained with grease and dirt, that no amount of scrubbing could bring out anytime soon. Palms calloused but somehow always so soft and gentle. The markings of a man who has worked hard for his way of life, a harsh contrast to Aziraphale's round, soft, well-manicured hands. Crowley's life has been hard too, just in different ways, yet he always seems so held together.

_Not weak and broken, like me._

"I am sorry about today, Anthony. I know it was so over-the-top. I must be a terrible burden to you at times." Aziraphale slides his thumb over rough knuckles.

"Please stop apologizing Aziraphale. Today wasn't your fault." Crowley moves so that his mouth is beside Aziraphale's ear. "You've suffered and survived. You're strong and gorgeous. Don't be sorry, be proud." The words are a whisper, and Crowley's hot breath on his ear, sends shivers down Aziraphale's spine. "You've never been, and never will be a burden."

"Never?" Aziraphale twists his body so he is laying atop Crowley facing him.

Crowley shakes his head. "Never. If anything, you're a blessing."

And, oh, the way he looks at Aziraphale. _Like he worships me._

"A blessing?" The words come out breathy, Aziraphale can feel the growing shared arousal between them.

"Greatest blessing of my life." Crowley utters back, and something in Aziraphale needs, hungers and then their lips are together. If Crowley had started this, it would've been gentle, Crowley is always so gentle.

This is not gentle, Aziraphale wants to feed, and Crowley is the table lain out before him. The kiss is hard, demanding, and Crowley submits. Crowley who never tells him no, who gives him everything and never takes. Aziraphale wants Crowley to take, to claim, to feast on him in return.

Aziraphale's tongue slides across soft red lips, which part to allow him inside. The kiss is sloppy, wet and heated, and everything he desires. Taking hold of Crowley's wrists, Aziraphale brings slender hands to his own thick ass.

"Touch me. Show me you want me." He says into Crowley's mouth, never softening the bruising kiss. "Show me how much you want me."

Something similar to a growl rumbles up from Crowley's chest and into Aziraphale's mouth. Crowley squeezes the soft mounds where his hands now lay and Aziraphale ruts forward. Crowley grips tighter, and returns thrust after lust filled thrust.

"O-oh, yes like t-that." Aziraphale stutters. "Tell me you want me, darling. Make me believe it." Aziraphale rides and moves with the waves of Crowley's undulating hips, scraping his nails down his lover’s sides.

"Fuck, yes, Angel. Yes, I fucking want you. Never wanted anything more in my life." Crowley's mouth now nipping at Aziraphale's throat.

"I want you inside me, Anthony."

Aziraphale feels Crowley freeze beneath him. He brings his face up to look Azirapahle in the eyes. "What?"

In the entirety of their relationship, Crowley has not once entered Aziraphale, not even to be sucked off. But Aziraphale's not asked, and Crowley never does anything unless Aziraphale asks.

Aziraphale leans slowly forward and licks across Crowley's lips. "I want to lay you down and ride your cock." Crowley shivers as Aziraphale runs his tongue over the snake tattoo. "I want to fuck myself on you. Get off on you, while you get off inside me." He nips at Crowley's ear, holding the lobe between his teeth for a beat. Then whispers in his ear. "Would that be alright?"

"Yes." Crowley's voice cracks and squeaks, and Aziraphale finds it endearingly sexy. He clears his throat and tries again, voice steadier. "Yes, please." And the way he looks at Aziraphale now in worship, love and lust, behind blown wide golden orbs.

"Go to the bed, Anthony and undress for me." Aziraphale stands, allowing Crowley to move. The red-head nods, looking like someone in a trance and hurries to the bedroom. Aziraphale loves how Crowley gives him this control, never makes him feel like he's out of control.

He had worried the first time they'd been intimate. Afraid of a flashback or embarrassing himself in some way. But in the year they've been together, those fears have been rendered useless. Nothing about Crowley ever reminds him of Gabriel, not a single touch or sound. Crowley is his safe haven, has been since the moment they met. He is the one place Aziraphale knows he is protected from pain. Crowley's touch heals him, holds him together. Aziraphale realizes he's never told Crowley any of this, and tonight he'll show him.

The bedroom is illuminated by a single bedside lamp. Crowley lay naked, spread out before him, beautiful, muscular and obviously wanting.

"You're stunning, darling." Aziraphale begins to remove his own clothing, never taking his gaze from Crowley's lean body. "Absolutely gorgeous."

Crowley flushes red on his face and in patches across his freckled body. "M'not."

"Oh but you are." The last of Aziraphale's clothes fall to the floor. Reaching into the dresser, he retrieves the lubricant. Before this past year, Aziraphale would have never pictured himself as seductive, but Crowley thinks he's sexy, tells him so, makes him believe it through words and actions. So, in this house, away from the rest of the world he is.

He slowly crawls up the bed, kissing gently over Crowley's body until he reaches his lips. Aziraphale hands Crowley the bottle of lube as he lays beside him. "Open me up, Anthony."

Crowley rolls to his side, Aziraphale watches the bob of his Adam's apple as he releases a long breath and nods. Crowley slicks his fingers and begins to gently massage Aziraphale's entrance. It's been a long time since anyone's entered him. Crowley will know he'll be tight, and Aziraphale knows Crowley will be so carefully slow.

"I love it when you touch me, darling." He cups his hands on the sides of Crowley's face. "Don't be afraid of me, Anthony."

The brief look of fear crosses Crowley's handsome face. "Don't want to hurt you, Angel."

Aziraphale kisses Crowley deeply, when he pulls back he says intensely. "You can't hurt me. I'm unbreakable in your hands." Crowley shudders, breath staggering. Aziraphale runs a hand into Crowley's hair. "In your arms is the only place I'm whole."

With the hand twined in thick red locks, Aziraphale pulls him into a frenzied kiss. With his other hand he reaches down and pushes Crowley's fingers inside. Aziraphale gasps. Crowley's finger slides in and out slowly. Aziraphale takes the small container from where it has dropped on the pillow and adds a layer of slick to his own hand wrapping it around Crowley's long, hard shaft.

"Oh god darling." He moans in Crowley's ear. "I can't wait to see your face as I take my pleasure from you." Aziraphale hears the stuttered breath, his name exhaled in a moan, as Crowley's face falls onto Aziraphale's shoulder.

"More, Anthony. I want more." And Crowley complies, two fingers, in and out, a slow, wonderfully agonizing drag. Crowley's fingers, so long, so gentle, opening him and suddenly the sublime pressure of deft hands pushing perfectly against his prostate. Aziraphale's grip tightens around Crowley's cock, as he screams out. "O-oh yes, y-yes! More, Anthony more!"

Aziraphale whimpers when Crowley removes his fingers long enough to add another layer of slick, then he is full again with three gloriously elegant fingers. Circling him, opening him up, piece by broken piece, so that he can be rebuilt, remade into someone strong, someone brave. Someone who deserves this life, deserves this stunning crimson haired creature who seals Aziraphale's cracked edges and cements him back together.

"On your back." Aziraphale's voice is commanding. Crowley complies, always complies, and God he's beautiful. Pale skin, flecked in freckles and flushed. Red hair like flames, licking across the dark pillowcase, a matching patch of flame trailing down from Crowley's navel and spreading like wild fire around his still slick cock and balls.

Aziraphale straddles Crowley, lining himself up. Crowley looks devastatingly gorgeous. Their eyes meet and Aziraphale lowers himself slowly. "Oh, shit, Anthony!" He shouts at the resplendent burn opening him further.

Crowley's hands come to Aziraphale's hips, helping to ease him down. "You okay Angel?" Crowley gasps, his face a mix of worry and pleasure.

"Oh yes, love. More than ok. You feel magnificent." As he takes the full length of Crowley in, Aziraphale lets out a long breath. Like a sigh, a release of pressure, of fear. The relief of knowing he has everything he could ever want or need, inside and beneath him at this moment. "Fuck, Anthony! You're perfect, darling. You were made to be in me, for me.

"Yes, Aziraphale. Just for you. Only you. I'm yours." Crowley stares up at him, hands still on Aziraphale's hips.

"Mine." Aziraphale lays his hands over Crowley's, and begins to move, slowly at first, then picking up speed. The pleasure is blinding as Crowley's long, dick rubs and presses against his sweet spot.

"Angel." Crowley's voice is reverent.

_Yes, Anthony, worship me. Make me whole, because you believe I'm whole, heal me with your faith. Pray to me and give me power_.

Crowley curls slender fingers around Aziraphale's aching cock and begins stroking him to the rhythm of his Angel's movements. The pressure at the base of Aziraphale's stomach is building, Crowley is hard and throbbing within him, skilled fingers stroking him just as he likes.

"I'm so close." He begins to frantically fuck himself harder and harder onto Crowley.

"Me too, Angel." Crowley is breathing hard, his voice deep with lust.

"You feel so good, Anthony. Oh, please, fill me, come in me. Mark me as yours." And Aziraphale feels the explosion within him, as Crowley presses against his prostate and hot come pumps into him simultaneously. They shout one others names as Aziraphale's own spend covers Crowley's stomach and hand.

Aziraphale falls forward to kiss Crowley, paying no attention to the mess between them. "I love you Anthony."

"I love you too." Crowley's voice is love drunk. They spend several minutes petting and kissing. Basking in the glow of what they have, what they are together.

Separate from Crowley, Aziraphale is barely visible, a distant star fading into oblivion, a moon with no sun to illuminate him. Together, they are a force, they have meaning. Bright lights in the night sky which can't help but be noticed. Like Alpha Centauri, two small stars, when burning together, make one incredible light.

Later when both have cleaned themselves, they settle into bed for the night. Crowley lies with Aziraphale resting across his chest. Aziraphale can feel the feather lite touch of Crowley's fingers up and down his back.

"Would you think me foolish, if I wanted to start seeing a professional about.....?" Aziraphale clears his throat. "My issues?"

He feels Crowley let out a heavy sigh. "Not at all, Angel." He takes the hand Aziraphale has resting on his chest. "I'm actually relieved you brought it up." He kisses Aziraphale's knuckles. "I was trying to think of a way to broach the same subject but was afraid I'd upset you."

_Oh, what a relief._ Aziraphale thinks. He had been afraid Crowley would take the request as an insult, that Aziraphale didn’t think he was enough. Then another thought occurs to him.

“I can pay for it. I have enough money left to cover my bills.” He looks up to meet Crowley’s eyes.

“You may not have to.” Honey eyes shining with excitement. “Got an email today, my civil service test is scheduled for Friday.” Crowley cocks his head to the side. “Granted, if I pass, I won’t be able to cover you on insurance until we’re married. But I have enough in savings to cover it until then.”

“You’re a wonder, Anthony.” Aziraphale pulls himself up to kiss Crowley, who wraps his arms around Aziraphale tightly.

“You’re the only one who thinks so, Angel.” Crowley runs his fingers up Aziraphale’s spine. “Do you have any idea how much I love you? I mean, really love you?”

Aziraphale nuzzles his head against Crowley’s chest. “Yes, love. You’ve most definitely convinced me.”


	3. Honest Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley’s overprotective streak is in full gear. We find out about Aziraphale’s local charity work. And Crowley turns some past promises into reality, when Operation Recovery comes to fruition. He will literally give up anything to make his Angel happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this chapter is a Ben Platt song. Hope you enjoy! ❤️💚

**The Next Morning, Monday**

Crowley slinks out of bed an hour earlier than usual, having not slept well. He lay most of the night watching Aziraphale, taking in his smooth skin and halo of curls. Crowley suffers from his own terrors. He fears his Angel leaving him or of someone taking him away. The worry isn't unfounded, he's almost lost him too many times already. But Aziraphale is getting stronger, even with yesterday’s set back and Crowley isn't about to ruin the progress he's made by burdening Aziraphale with more.

Crowley makes his way to the kitchen. Aziraphale hasn't eaten since breakfast the previous day, and Crowley decides to put together a surprise. It's something he's been planning for a while and today seems the perfect day.

A quick glance at his phone shows Bri and Sal made it safely to a motel by 11:30pm the night before. Driving the 16 hours in a U-Haul truck, with a cooler of food and water to maximize time and save on the cash Crowley had sent with them.

Crowley, Andrew and Shane had moved the 4-wheeler, lawn mower, deer stand, tools and holiday decorations to an old rickety shed back by the pond. It's more cramped, but everything fits. That had been last week’s project, this week’s project lays under the tarp and will be finished by Wednesday afternoon. At least Crowley hopes it will.

He sends his cousins back a brief text telling them to enjoy their down time and the weather and to keep him updated. Crowley feels indebted to them for life, although they'd never collect. They love him too much. Surprisingly Beez has been so helpful through all of this too. No matter how mean they pretend to be, deep down they have a heart of gold. Someone forbid they ever find out Crowley thought that about them. He'd be murdered on the spot.

An hour later Crowley slithers silently into the bedroom, tray of food in one hand a mug in the other. He lays them on top the dresser and sidles onto the bed. Gently stroking Aziraphale's down soft curls, Crowley's fingers brush the rough edges of the scar, forever a reminder all he came so close to losing, and everything he’s still lucky to have. "Good morning, beautiful."

Aziraphale's face twitches and he scrunches up his nose, causing Crowley to smile. How can one man be this unbelievably cute? He leans forward and kisses a rosy, cherubic cheek. "Made you breakfast."

Pale blond lashes flutter open, revealing angel blue eyes. Crowley leans over to retrieve the tray. Sleepy but smiling, Aziraphale pulls himself up to a sitting position. "Thank you. How long have you been awake?"

"Not long." Crowley folds the thin legs of the tray down, sitting it carefully atop Aziraphale's lap. "I did a thing." Crowley motions towards the tray, practically preening.

Aziraphale looks at his plate then back to Crowley. "Crepes." He says astonished. In his lap are six beautiful, thin triangles, topped in powdered sugar and strawberries.

"And" Crowley flourishes his hands, like a magician before his big reveal, "this."

He hands Aziraphale the mug. Inside is a hot, amber liquid with a mouth-watering floral aroma. Aziraphale eyes it apprehensively.

"Just try it, Angel." Crowley pushes. "I know how fussy you are about tea, so I googled how to do it right. Bought a tea kettle and strainer and everything. Didn't even use bags, used actual leaves."

Aziraphale lifts the mug to his lips and hums in surprised approval. "Anthony where did you get this? I've been shopping with you, they don't sell Darjeeling at Walmart."

"Internet. You can order anything off the internet." Crowley watches Aziraphale carefully. _Please let it be good enough._

"The internet?" He laughs. "This is very good." He murmurs taking another sip. "Just when I think you can't amaze me more, you go and prove me wrong."

Looking up, their eyes meet, and Aziraphale gives Crowley that radiant smile. _He looks at me like I've hung the stars._

"Anything for you, Angel." Crowley kisses him once more, before grabbing his work uniform and heading to the shower. "Anything at all."

* * *

**An hour and a half later**

After kissing Crowley goodbye, Aziraphale waves to Beez and the boys before beginning his walk to the library. Late October is always chilly, and he thinks he may need to get a warmer coat out soon. Making a brief detour into one of the small gas stations along the way, he grabs a pre-made deli sandwich, chips and a bottle of water. This has become an added weekday routine for the better of two months now.

Four months ago, when Aziraphale had recovered enough to get out and about, he had started volunteering with a local homeless shelter, becoming good friends with the woman who manages it, Tracy Potts. She founded and runs the charity on her own money and with the help of donations, Aziraphale being her largest contributor by donating $30,000. Most of her clientele are military vets, single women with children, and few unfortunate souls in the same position Aziraphale had been in a year ago. She offers them clothes, showers, beds to sleep in at night, money for the children's daycare or school lunches based on their ages, and on weekdays, one meal in the evenings. On weekends she supplies three meals, but during the week they are to be expected to be looking for or attending work during the daytime hours. But there is one poor soul who needs a little extra help.

Stepping onto the pavement of the library parking lot, Aziraphale sees the hunched figure waiting by the door.

"Sargent! How are we today?" He calls out cheerfully.

The man huffs. "Wha ye got?"

Shadwell is a rough sort. Thinning gray hair, scruffy in some old military jacket with no discernable affiliation to any branch. He appeared in town roughly 10 weeks earlier, mumbling nonsense and begging for money and food.

Most of the town’s people ignore him, Aziraphale has started buying him food every morning and has Crowley bring extra food when dropping off Aziraphale's lunch.

_Just be careful, Angel_. Crowley had told him. _The man's unstable_.

And yes, Shadwell isn't well, but Aziraphale feels he's far from unstable. He goes on about being a sargent in a witch finder army, at least Aziraphale caught something to that affect in the man's ramblings. And he speaks with an accent that sounds Scottish, but forced and fake.

Aziraphale set him up with **Tracy's House** on the morning he found the poor man wandering outside the library, scaring patrons with his blathering. Unlike Tracy's other tenants, Shadwell's too far gone to get or keep a job, so she does permit him to stay there for warmth during the day. However, due to money restrictions, she can't feed him.

Aziraphale refuses to watch someone go hungry, and for some reason the crazy old grump has taken quite the liking to the fussy, young librarian.

"Deli sandwich, water and crisps." He waves his hands as though to shoo the previous sentence away. "I mean chips." American terms still throw him sometimes, even after a decade in the states. "Are you staying warm?"

"Aye." Shadwell keeps his face stern, attempting to look hard. It's an extremely unsuccessful endeavor.

Aziraphale removes the library's keys from his pocket and unlocks the door. "You're welcome to come in for a bit. I can set you up on one of the computers, or you can settle at one of the tables with a book."

Shadwell looks him up and down considering before turning to leave. "Nah, Mr. Fell. Be on ma way now."

Aziraphale calls after him brightly. "Well, enjoy your day Sargent. See you around 1:30!"

Shadwell doesn't turn or respond. Aziraphale shakes his head and walks into work.

* * *

**Three and a Half Hours Later**

Crowley saunters through the doors of the library, three bags of KFC, paper plates and plastic cutlery in hand. He and Aziraphale had been through the entire Kali's menu multiple times, and Crowley feels it is time for a change.

"Anthony." Aziraphale's face still lights up at the sight of him.

"Hiya, Angel." Giving Aziraphale a quick kiss, he carries the bags and disposable kitchenware into the back office.

Twelve piece chicken bucket, family size tubs of mashed potatoes, gravy, baked beans, green beans, corn and biscuits. Aziraphale's face lights up when Crowley runs out to the truck and returns with a chocolate cake. "Not as good as homemade, but it's something."

"Nothing's as good as your cooking, love." Aziraphale kisses him again. "But I'm more than pleased with this spread."

Crowley runs a hand up Aziraphale's arm and squeezes. "Good." Then sticking his head out of the office door. "Anathema, you want any of this?"

"Yeah." She stands up from behind the front desk and points towards the foyer. "Your best friend's coming through the doors now."

Crowley sees Shadwell and throws his head back dramatically. "Urgh." Crowley wiggles his fingers in the universal language of gimme. "Let me take the food out to him, Angel."

"Don't start this again Anthony." Aziraphale warns. "He's just a harmless, lonely, old man." He pauses to pat Crowley's arm. "I meet with him alone every morning."

"And I wish you wouldn't." Crowley watches as Aziraphale prepares Shadwell's plate.

Blue eyes look up staring directly into gold. "I'm sure if he were a murderous felon, I'd be dead and cut up in a field by now."

Crowley pales. "You're not helping your case, Angel."

"You worry too much." Aziraphale's eyes soften, and he looks at Crowley, oh so sweetly. "He's lost and just needs help. Please let me help."

Crowley sighs. The way Aziraphale phrases it, like he is asking permission, leaves Crowley feeling more than just a little bit guilty. "I'll never keep you from doing anything you want to do. Just be careful, please."

"Thank you. I always am.” Aziraphale says softly giving Crowley his light up the world smile and walks out to greet Shadwell.

"You haven't been that verbal about your mistrust of Shadwell since the second week he was in town." Anathema says from the desk behind him.

"I'm always thinking it." Crowley doesn't mean to sound like a selfish prick, but the weird old man is much too fond of his fiancé. "He just appears in town, no one knows him." Crowley stands in the office doorway watching Shadwell and his Angel talk. "And Aziraphale is just so good. So, kind. I'm afraid the nutty old bastard will take advantage of that kindness." His voice drops. "Or worse."

Anathema picks at her food with a fork, tilting her head to the side. "Or maybe, you're just being too overprotective? Clingy even?"

"Excuse me?" The irritation is evident in his voice, the words coming in a hiss as he turns to face her.

Anathema isn't phased by Crowley's act, she knows he's harmless. "Well it's not like your relationship has been easy." She looks at her plate thoughtfully. "And he told me how that asshole at the church treated him yesterday, and what happened because of those actions." She looks up at him and shrugs. "Maybe you're still afraid at any moment he'll be taken away."

Crowley wants to argue with her but can't. Instead he stares at her dumbfounded. _She really is a witch. Read my fucking mind!_

Being with Aziraphale is bliss, and with this much happiness comes fear. Fear that Crowley won't be enough and Aziraphale will leave. Fear that someone or something will happen to them and rip his Angel from his life. Memories run through Crowley's head of Aziraphale pulling away, Gabriel taking him at gunpoint, the car accident, and now the piece of shit preacher and the chaos he caused.

Crowley drops his head, feeling way too seen. "I need him, Anathema."

He turns his gaze back to Aziraphale, who's smiling, bringing sunlight into a broken old man's life. And Crowley loves him for his unbelievable kindness. _Angel in face, name and spirit._

"Well stand down, soldier." He hears Anathema say. "Pretty sure you have him."

* * *

**Five and a Half Hours Later**

Crowley helps Aziraphale out of the truck at the top of their driveway.

"What happened here?" The blond looks confused by a large black tarp covering the entirety of the front portion of the garage.

Crowley hates to, but he lies, certain his Angel will forgive him. "Garage door broke. Won't go down. Just protecting the Bentley from the elements until I can get a new one installed."

Aziraphale's brow furrows. "Why does the tarp cover the whole front instead of just the opening?"

"For leverage. To keep it in place." Crowley places his hand at the small of Aziraphale's back and hurries him inside.

"Is this why you didn't show up until 7?" Normally Crowley goes directly from his shift at Beez’s to the library and waits for Aziraphale to close up. But today he hadn't arrived until 7pm on the dot, and it wasn't entirely a lie. He was dealing with construction on the garage.

"Yup." Crowley desperately searches for a change of subject. He hands Aziraphale the remote and gestures to the sofa. "Relax, Angel. I'm gonna start dinner."

He can feel Aziraphale watching him as he rushes to the kitchen. "Are you sure everything's okay, Anthony?"

"Fantastic, Angel!" Crowley calls from the safety of the kitchen.

Crowley hears Wheel of Fortune on the television and Aziraphale mumble. "Well, that was a thing."

* * *

**Wednesday 7:05pm**

Aziraphale can't help but think Crowley has been acting strange for two days. Not necessarily bad, just strange, and today it has amplified. Crowley was giddy all morning, fidgety when he delivered lunch. Now as Aziraphale locks up the library, there isn't a gangly limb on the red head not moving.

"What is going on with you Anthony?" Aziraphale turns from the locked door and allows himself to be helped into the truck.

"I have a surprise for you, Angel." Once Aziraphale is seated, Crowley shuts his door and runs around to the drivers side, climbs in and turns the ignition. "And I think you'll love it."

Crowley is smiling like he did the night Aziraphale said yes with a backdrop of fireworks. Noticing his gaze, Crowley takes his Angel's hand. The rest of the ride, Crowley is silent, but never stops smiling.

Finally, they turn up their long driveway. The first things Aziraphale notices are three vehicles with Andrew, Bri, Shane, Alexis, and Sal standing beside them. The next thing he notices is the large black tarp is gone. Where the garage door once was, is now a smooth outer wall, to the far left of which is a single door matching the one to the front of the house.

"What's all this?" Aziraphale looks to Crowley, who just smiles and parks the truck. Jumping down he rushes around to Aziraphale's door. Allowing Crowley to help him down, Aziraphale struggles to decipher what is happening. Everyone is smiling and watching expectantly, as Crowley walks him to the newly installed door and hands him a key. Aziraphale glances around to each person, then puts the key into the lock and steps inside.

Aziraphale gasps, one hand going to his mouth, the other covering his heart. What was once a cold, concrete garage, is now a warm comfortable living space with carpeting the color of brown sugar, wood panelled walls, and central heating. In the far left corner, where the lawn mower once sat, is a large wingback chair. In the middle of the wall to his left is an antique writing desk with a plush chair. Bookshelves cover the remaining wall space from floor to ceiling, along with three more bookshelves, equal in height to the others, running perpendicular to the door Aziraphale entered. Every shelf filled to the brim with books, and a few boxes more stacked on the floor.

Crowley steps up behind Aziraphale placing skinny hands on his Angel's shoulders. "They're yours."

Aziraphale turns to face Crowley, noticing everyone else has filed into the room. "What?"

Crowley's voice is soft. "Looking online I saw they were having an estate auction on some of _his_ things." Crowley's disgust comes through at his mention of Gabriel. "So, I sold some stuff, gave Bri and Sal the money. They ran to Miami for the auction, and got back this morning with, well..." He gestures around the small library.

Aziraphale shakes his head. "These books are expensive. How much did you pay?"

"Pretty good deal actually." Sal speaks up. "We were able to get all this for $600,000."

"$600,000?" Aziraphale mumbles. "We don't have that kind of money saved." His eyes skim the former garage. "Your decorations, hunting things, lawn mower...?"

"And 4-wheeler." Crowley cuts in. "All out in the shed."

But there is one thing Crowley didn't mention. Suddenly Aziraphale knows where Crowley got the money, and the gift is worth more than he feels he should ever deserve.

"Anthony," Aziraphale takes Crowley's hands. "Where's the Bentley?" His voice is a whisper, and his heart aches at how much this beautiful man loves him.

Aziraphale searches, and sees no regret behind those honey eyes, only devotion. "I told you over a year ago I'd get your books back." Crowley brings a hand to cup Aziraphale's face. "And I made a promise the night I proposed to always give you everything within my power to give. I've kept those promises, just like I'll keep every promise, every vow I’ll ever make to you." Crowley nods his head towards the room behind Aziraphale. "This is my engagement gift to you."

Aziraphale breaks, pulling Crowley into a tight embrace. Burying his face against Crowley's neck, Aziraphale begins to sob. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, Angel." Crowley kisses his head and holds him.

"I love you, darling." Aziraphale whispers. "I love you so much, and I don't deserve you."

"I love you too, Aziraphale." Crowley runs his hands up and down Aziraphale's back. "You deserve the world."


	4. Stand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley’s taking his civil service test, and Aziraphale deals with some people who need to do better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title of this Chapter is a Rascal Flats song. This is a pretty tame chapter. Thanks for reading! I hope you all enjoy!

**Orient, Ohio, Friday 7:55AM**

Crowley stares at the glass doors of the modern brick building. The butterflies in his stomach are fighting to enter his throat and fly out his mouth. So much is riding on this day. The difference between giving Aziraphale a life of struggle or a life of opportunities, rests squarely on his shoulders.

Taking a deep breath, Crowley steps through the glass doors. The Corrections Training Academy is two hours north of Oak Hill in Orient, Ohio. Inside it looks like a schoolhouse, with white brick walls and blue carpeting. The hallways are lined with classrooms and instructors’ offices. This initial hallway extends approximately twenty-five feet before the structure opens into a circle. There is a square island of offices in the middle, with the hallway circling around them. Crowley notices there are two more hallways similar to the one he entered, branching out to other exits.

Near the exit hallway directly before him, Crowley sees the large metal doors to the gymnasium propped open to his right. He glances down at the paper print out in his hand, confirming his test will start here.

Polished wood flooring beneath his feet, Crowley walks to a man in black 5.11 tactical pants and a black polo shirt. On the upper left of the shirt are white letters reading CTA Instructor and a blue state ID with the man’s name and photo, clasped directly above. Officer Sanson.

Crowley offers Officer Sanson his paperwork, which the man accepts. The officer is muscular, but not slim. Late thirties, black hair, blue eyes and a slightly protruding stomach. He and Crowley are roughly the same height, as Sanson looks him in the eyes. “You’ll need to lose the contacts. Those aren’t professional.”

Crowley stomach clinches, but he keeps his voice professional. The man doesn’t know, can’t expect strangers to know.

“They’re not contacts, sir. It’s a medical condition.” Crowley points to the paperwork in Sanson’s hand. “There’s a doctor’s note in that pile confirming. As was requested.”

Sanson’s face pales and becomes less stern, as he reads over the paper mentioned. “I’m sorry Mr. Crowley. I meant no offense.

Crowley offers his hand. “None taken.” Sanson takes the hand and shakes. Once their grips release, he gestures for Crowley to join the others seated on the bleachers. There are at least eighty people, if not more. Crowley sets at the end of one of the rows towards the top. He’s never liked feeling closed in.

“Potential officers!” Officer Sanson calls out. “We start with the physical portion of the test. One of the most important things you’ll need to be capable of, is responding to man down alarms.” He scans the crowd. “You are required to run three quarters of a mile in nine and a half minutes. If you cannot pass this portion of the test, you will be disqualified and sent home.“

_This I can do._ Crowley’s always been fast, and years of work have given him stamina. His long legs and lithe frame also help.

“Three quarter of a mile is eighteen laps, on the outside of the line.” Sanson continues, pointing to the black paint lining approximately eight feet in from the edge of the floor. “If you’ll come down in groups of 10, starting with the back row. Mr. Crowley, would you lead the way?“

Crowley nods and begins walking to the gym floor, followed by nine other people. The line is spaced out enough from the wall for the slower runners to allow the faster to pass if needed. Crowley positions himself towards the front, beside a fit woman with red hair.

“Go!” Sanson calls out, springing the start on them with no countdown, throwing Crowley off for a split second. Doesn’t matter, he easily sprints ahead of most the runners. Of course, this isn’t a competition against any of them, it’s a competition against fate itself. He and Aziraphale need this, he’s running for their future. Crowley has spent many waking hours since meeting Aziraphale, fantasizing about this future. Thoughts of their wedding. Aziraphale in white and pastels, walking towards him down the aisle. Golden halo of hair, stunning like the sun, glowing like the angel he is. He dreams of sleepless nights tending to babies. Crowley wants at least two, close in age if possible, so they can take care of one another as they grow and have the closeness he and his cousins have together. He longs to watch first days of school, sports games, art events, or whatever else their children wish to participate in. Graduation days, of getting sons or daughter-in-law‘s. Dreams of holding Aziraphale’s hand on the front porch as they sit in the rocking chairs, watching grandchildren play. And in growing old with his soulmate, best friend and love of his life by his side. Today, Crowley runs so they can afford a life where all of that’s possible.

Around the ninth lap, the muscles in Crowley’s legs begin to burn. _Maybe I should have prepared for this more._ Lap twelve his chest feels tight. He notices he’s beginning to slow a bit, but he’s still doing better than most of the other applicants. At lap fifteen he starts to fall back, suddenly in the middle of the runners. His adrenaline kicks in as he finishes lap seventeen, beginning the final lap and officer Sanson yells out. “Less than a minute remaining, runners!”

_Oh shit, shit, shit!_ Crowley screams internally. _Move you asshole, move!_

His legs feel like lead, and he begins to panic when taking the second corner he hears. “Thirty seconds!”

He’s trying, Someone, how he’s trying. Turning the final corner, only a few more feet to go, he hears. “Five, four.”

_Fuck!_

“Three, two.”

Propelling his body forward as hard as he can, Crowley stumbles past Sanson and the finish, just as he hears. “One!”

Bent over, hands on his knees trying to catch his breath, Crowley feels relieved and dizzy. _I did it! I fucking did it!_

“Alright.” Sanson glances over towards Crowley and the four other applicants to finish in time. “Now head to room 12A, the computer lab. There you will take the problem solving, and psychological portion of the test.”

Turning to follow the others down the hall, Crowley hears Sanson call out. “Next ten please!” As he steps through the gym doors.

“What institution are you trying to get?” Asks the red headed woman he’d seen earlier.

“ACF” Crowley responds tersely. He doesn’t mean to sound gruff, but he’s psyching himself up and doesn’t need anyone interrupting his headspace.

“Me too!” It doesn’t go unnoticed the way she looks him up and down. “Be nice if we could work together, Huh? Get to know each other.“ She smiles. Crowley doesn’t like the way she smiles.

“Hmph.” He brushes past her quickly, and into the computer lab.

The room is large, three long rows, with fifteen computers in each row. A woman in the same pants, polo and ID badge as officer Sanson, sits at a desk behind a computer. Her hair is blonde, pulled up in a tight bun. She’s slender, petite even, with bright green eyes and a serious face.

“Take a seat.” She instructs. “I am Officer Bowers. Pick a computer and sign on with the ID number I’m about to give you. Once you’re finished, come up here and check in with me.“

She calls them up one at a time to give them the sign-on information. “Remember, you can only answer wrong on three, unless it’s a crucial question. There are eleven crucial questions, and if you miss even one of those you fail. There is no way to differentiate them from the others. Good luck.”

Crowley chooses the computer on the end, directly in front of Bowers’ desk. Each console is surrounded by visors, bulky headphones plugged into the monitor.

Crowley places the earmuff size headphones on his head and logs on. He notices as someone sits directly beside him. Out of his peripheral vision he catches red hair. _She has the whole damn room!_ _This woman is going to be a problem._

Crowley silently hopes she doesn’t pass. He doesn’t need drama, especially involving something this important.

Focusing on the task at hand, he eventually blocks her out. Most of the test is watching scenarios of inmates interacting, then answering how you would respond in those situations. Crowley feels comfortable enough with his answers. Sal has coached him on what to expect, and how to properly handle himself. Most is common sense, teach people how to do better and don’t be a dick.

An hour and a half later Crowley finishes feeling confident. He walks quietly to Officer Bowers so as not to disturb the others. More participants have filed in as Crowley took the test, and the room is now nearly half full.

Bowers looks up at him and then back to her computer screen. “Anthony James Crowley?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Crowley nods.

Bowers prints something off from the printer beside the desktop. “Congratulations, you’ve passed. Expect an email from your respective institution.”

“Thank you ma’am.” He says quickly. Looking at his watch, it’s 10:00 AM. He’ll be home in time to shower and take Aziraphale lunch.

* * *

**Half hour earlier**

Beez’s black Camaro sits in the driveway, Halestorm blaring out the speakers. Aziraphale hurriedly locks up the house and rushes out to meet them. Beez agreed to give Aziraphale a ride to work, even permitting time for his normal morning stop.

“Thank you so much.” Aziraphale says sweetly, sliding onto the black leather seats. His words barely audible as _I Like it Heavy_ screams through the speakers.

“Yeah, yeah.” Beez waves him off.

Aziraphale can’t help but adore Beez, no matter how gruff they pretend to be. “Well I know how put out you must be, with Anthony taking another job at all.“

“Ahh.” They huff. “ Crowley’s useless anyway. Never did like him much.” There’s too much sarcasm behind the words to be offensive. “Glad to see him go.”

Aziraphale smiles. “Of course.” He settles back as Lzzy Hale belts out how she sees the good in the bad and the ugly.

Fifteen minutes later they’re turning into the library lot. Aziraphale looks over to where Shadwell waits and then to Beez. “I hate to ask, but would you turn down the volume?” Gesturing toward the old man. “He gets spooked easily, and when he does, he gets a bit unruly.“

Aziraphale remembers the time a teenager had set Shadwell off in a similar manner. Andrew had to be called out, because Shadwell busted the girl’s windshield with a rock. If something like that would happen today, let’s just say one old man would meet his maker.

Beez nods, decreasing the volume.

“Thank you so much.” He pats their arm before exiting the vehicle.

Beez watches him carefully. Rolling down the car window, they call out. “Ring me if you need anything!”

“Most definitely!” He calls back, handing Shadwell his breakfast.

“Ye didna walk?” Shadwell says, seeming a bit put out.

“No I didn’t.” Aziraphale shakes his head. “Mr. Crowley had to be out of town this morning, so I wasn’t at the shop first. The owner of that establishment gave me a ride straight from home.“ Aziraphale speaks calmly, with a lilt in his voice.

Eyes drawn down, Shadwell nods.

“I’m going to head inside now Sargent. Follow if you’d like.“

Shadwell looks off in the direction of Tracy‘s House. “Nah, see ye at lunch. Will Mr. Crowley be here then?”

“I’m not sure.” Aziraphale explains kindly. “But maybe.”

Shadwell turns and walks off in the direction he had been staring. Aziraphale watches him for a moment, laughing internally. It’s ironic that Crowley doesn’t trust an old man that is obviously prepared to protect his honor.

An hour of Aziraphale’s shift passes with no visitors. He relaxes behind the counter, engrossed in The **_Silmarillion_** when he hears the inner door swish open. A couple, both near 40 walk in and Aziraphale feels his heart stop. The woman is pretty, tiny with a short pixie cut, wearing pastels and dangly jewelry. The man has thick brown hair and glasses, regular build and he’s the reason Aziraphale is fighting to remember how to breathe.

_The assistant pastor of Freedom Baptist._

Aziraphale closes his eyes and steadies his breathing before turning and squaring his shoulders. “Can I help you find a book?”

The woman’s mouth curves upward in a half smile, attempting to look apologetic. “I was actually hoping you’d be willing to talk.”

Aziraphale feels his stomach clench, he’s not sure if it’s anger, fear or both. He shakes his head. “I’d rather not have any more discussions of the kind I’m sure you’re wanting.“ He stands picking up a pile of books and hurries back among the shelves.

The woman walks slowly, following him until she is a few feet away, her husband waiting by the door. “We want to apologize. Barney doesn’t speak for everyone.” She shakes her head, and rubs the back of her neck. “Unfortunately, he does speak for the majority.

“If you’re trying to convince me to come back, the answer is a resounding, no.” Aziraphale can feel the anxiety kicking in, he wants to run, curl up in a corner and cry. Miraculously he is presenting himself with an air of controlled anger.

“No, no.” She waves her hands in front of herself. “That was cruel the way Barney spoke to you. The way he speaks of people he doesn’t understand.”

A new sort of flame flickers in the pit of Aziraphale’s stomach. “If you think it’s so cruel, why do you still attend? Why do you pretend to tolerate it?”

She drops her eyes to the floor, face blushing red in shame. “We shouldn’t, but there are no open parishes for Jason to take. So we tolerate, hoping one day he can lead and teach a better message.” She looks up meeting his eyes again. “My name is Stephanie, call me Steph, Vanderbilt.” Pointing over her shoulder with her thumb. “That’s my husband Jason. He has a proposition for you”

Aziraphale brushes past her, returning to his desk. “And what might that be?“ He directs the question towards Jason.

“Well, I’m offering to officiate your wedding.”

“Excuse me?” Aziraphale watches him, dumbfounded.

“There’s a church in Thurman. They have a pastor, but for the right price they’ll let anyone use it for weddings, led by whatever ordained individual you’d like.”

Stephanie has walked up and is now standing beside her husband. Aziraphale stares at the both of them in stunned silence.

After several moments he finally finds his words. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch. We’re trapped in a world of corruption and bigotry and we want to fight it anyway we can.” Jason watches him, as though expecting Aziraphale to be falling over himself with gratitude.

“I think I’ll be declining your offer.” Aziraphale says, jaw clenching with tension. “To be honest, if you really wanted to make your point, you would speak up or walk away entirely.”

The couple stand shocked, staring as if they want to speak but can’t find the words. Aziraphale turns to face his computer. “If there isn’t a book I can help you find, you should be on your way. May God bless you.”

He says the last sentence with an air of finality. He doesn’t turn around to see their reaction. Finally, after what seems forever, he hears the door open and close behind them.

* * *

**2 Hours Later**

Aziraphale smiles as Crowley walks up to the library desk, sitting down a pizza.

“How’s it going sexy. Was wondering if I could check you out?” He removes his sunglasses, lifting an eyebrow and leans across the desk.

Aziraphale giggles, eyes bright, and stands to kiss him. “We’ve resorted to cheesy pick-up lines, have we?”

“Cheesy?” Crowley brings his hand to his heart in mock hurt. “I thought I was rather debonair, Angel.”

Aziraphale gestures for Crowley to come around the desk. Anathema has taken the day off and they are currently alone. “Oh, yes darling. You’re quite the Casanova.”

Crowley does as he’s bid. “Damn right.” He winds an arm around Aziraphale’s waist. “Got good news.”

Aziraphale looks at him hopefully. “You passed?”

“Yup. They said I should be hearing from ACF soon.” Crowley’s expression falls slightly. “Got some bad news though.”

“Hmmm?” Aziraphale’s eyes are caught by a stray hair fallen on Crowley’s face. He gingerly wraps it around his finger.

Crowley sighs. _Of course, right before I tell him._ “Have to cut the hair.”

“What?!” Aziraphale pulls back affronted releasing the soft strand. “Why?”

“Stupid, really.” Crowley sighs. “If I were female, I could keep it, just have to pull it up. But since I’m a male, I have to have it short.”

“That’s a bit unfair.” Aziraphale murmurs. “No matter.” He shrugs. “You’d be handsome bald.” His blue eyes stare off for a moment, and he scrunches his nose. “Though I wouldn’t recommend it.”

“Noted.” Crowley smiles. He leans in for another kiss when he hears someone behind him clear their throat.

“Sargent.” Crowley greets the new arrival, gesturing towards the pizza box. “Have some.”

“Did ye know Mr. Fell came to work in a car today?” Shadwell tattles. “Someone drove him, Mr. Crowley. Someone I dunno, rough looking sort. Playin’ devil’s music. Felt it right ye were told.”

Crowley looks at him, with an entertained smirk on his face. “Yes, I did know, Sargent. But thank you for looking out.”

Shadwell nods. “Well, that’s okay then.” He proceeds to open the pizza box, now that he feels his duty is done.

Crowley looks at Aziraphale, devilish smirk still steadily in place. “You’re right, Angel. He’s a pretty good guy.”

Aziraphale laughs. “You should’ve seen him this morning. Acted like he caught Beez and I doing something salacious.”

Queens Somebody to Love begins playing from Crowley’s back pocket. Reaching to retrieve it, he releases Aziraphale and brings the phone to his ear.

“Hello.”

“Anthony Crowley?” He hears a female voice ask.

“Yes ma’am.” He stares excitedly at his Angel.

“This is Diane Brent, head of personnel at ACF. We have a start date for you scheduled, November 2 if you’re still interested.”

“Oh, yes ma’am.” Crowley can’t contain his excitement. So much is about to get better. Aziraphale has been trying to find a therapist for weeks. No one will see him without proper insurance. Of course, Crowley still can’t help until they’re married, but that won’t be too much longer. Everything will be ready when they do. On top of that, all the things Crowley’s been daydreaming about will be possible. He’s absolutely ecstatic to start this next step together.

“Report to the front entrance by 7:00AM, Monday, November 2. You’ll be reporting to Officer Jennings and Officer Rogers.“ Her voice is light and pleasant.

_Sal’s gonna be one of my training coaches!_ “Yes ma’am. Thank you.”

Aziraphale watches expectantly. “Well dear?”

“I start November 2. Sal’s gonna be one of my training coaches.” The words rush out, Crowley is practically bouncing. “I gotta go tell Beez, they’ll want a notice. And I gotta get my haircut.”

“Well, would you like your lunch before you run off?” Aziraphale says, amusement clear on his face.

“Uh, yeah. I’ll do that first.” He turns to Shadwell. “And don’t worry, Mr. Fell will be needing transportation for a while. So, don’t be alarmed, I’ll know.”

Shadwell salutes. “Yes, sir, Mr. Crowley.”

Behind him Crowley hears Aziraphale. “Perhaps I should look into getting a driver’s license?”

Crowley smiles. “Well let me know. I’ll get you a car as a wedding gift.”

* * *

**10:00PM**

Aziraphale watches Crowley lift the blankets and nestled into the bed beside him. Upper body lean and bare, loose black sweatpants staying up by only the sharp curve of the man’s hips. Crowley is stunning and he’s shown over and over again, in grand gesture after grand gesture how much he loves Aziraphale. The blond wishes he were man enough, good enough, to do the same.

“Penny for your thoughts.” Crowley says, propping himself up on an elbow to better look Aziraphale in the eyes.

Aziraphale rolls to his side to meet Crowley’s gaze. “You deserve so much more than I give you Anthony.”

Crowley grunts and opens his mouth to argue. Before he can get a word out, Aziraphale lays a finger over his lips. “Don’t interrupt.” Crowley’s brow furrows, but he closes his mouth.

“Do you remember a year ago? When I got the job at the library, and how you congratulated me?” Crowley nods, facial expressions kept still.

“Well, you see, I’ve been mentally preparing myself all day to do the same for you.” Aziraphale runs his hands over his own face and hair. “Problem is. I can’t. I can’t seem to get myself to do that yet.”

Aziraphale shifts so that he is now sitting up, hands worrying in his lap. “You always do so much for me, and I have so little to offer.”

Crowley shakes his head setting up as well. “I just need you with me, happy, in love with me Angel.” He takes Aziraphale’s hand. “Everything you already do is enough. I don’t need more.”

Aziraphale runs a hand through Crowley’s short hair. Still lovely, still thick and soft. It’s shorter on the sides with a little bit of extra length at the top that he combs back so very stylishly. Almost giving the effect of flames due to the red of the hair. “You know I love you, right? Even though I don’t do as much as you, show it as much as you?”

“You show me plenty, Aziraphale.” Crowley lays back opening his arms, inviting his angel to lay across his chest. “Just feel like cuddling tonight anyway.”

_God, I don’t deserve him._ Aziraphale lays on the warm bare skin, allowing himself to be safely wrapped in strong arms. “I love you, Anthony.”

Crowley squeezes him gently. “Love you too. So, what kind of car do you think you’d want?”


	5. Hellfire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale and Crowley have some bathtub sexy time. Life is so good until everything suddenly goes to hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title of this chapter is a Barns Courtney song. Enjoy❤️💚.

**The Next Morning, Saturday**

Crowley hears Aziraphale shuffle out of bed before it is even light out. Opening his eyes just a slit, he lets out an exasperated groan, before closing them again tightly. "It's 6:30 in the morning, Angel. Why are you up so early?"

Crowley feels his side of the bed give, as Aziraphale sits next to him. Thick fingers run through his mess of hair, followed by a soft kiss to his temple. "I want to make a trip to Jackson for food and drinks, before everyone gets here."

Anathema, Beez, Tracy, Bri, Sal and Alexis are coming over at eleven for wedding planning as they are the couple’s decided upon wedding party. With the exception of one member, Andrew, who will be missing due to work. Aziraphale had mentioned earlier in the week they would be having visitors today, but with everything else going on, it had slipped Crowley's mind.

"That's four and a half hours." Crowley complains, pulling the blanket over his head as Aziraphale flicks on the light.

"Yes, but I don't want to feed them cheap snacks. This is an important day, filled with important planning. I feel it's only right we should cook for them." From the darkness of his blanket cave, Crowley can hear the sound of hangers being moved.

"You mean I should cook for them." Crowley grumbles. Yesterday had exhausted him. "This is earlier than I get up for work." His voice is muffled by the thick fabric covering his face.

"Don't be like that, Anthony. This is exciting." Aziraphale tuts. "Besides, you'll need to become accustomed to waking much earlier. In a little over a week your schedule is going to be all over the place."

Crowley huffs out a puff of air hard enough the blanket bubbles up briefly. Aziraphale is right, his Angel is almost always right. One week of orientation at ACF, four weeks at the academy, one week of 6AM-2PM OJT at ACF, and lastly one week of 2PM-10PM OJT at ACF. The very last night of that last week the hardest, his schedule being 2PM-6AM the following morning. Afterwards he will be placed on whichever shift the institution feels they need him.

"Thought I'd have at least a week and a half to prepare though." Crowley whispers, nearly drifting back to sleep under the warmth of the blanket.

Aziraphale sounds dejected. "I'd hoped you'd be excited too."

Crowley pulls the blanket below his chin. Aziraphale is looking at him, pouting lips, blue eyes glistening and bright.

"Don't take it like that, Angel." Crowley's chest is tight, he feels like kicking himself in the ass. "I am excited. Very excited. But I'm also very tired."

"Please, Anthony." Crowley's pretty damn sure if he were to look up the phrase puppy dog eyes on Urban Dictionary he would be presented with a picture of Aziraphale's face at this moment.

Crowley lets out a long sigh before throwing the comforter off of his body. "I'm up. Do you want me to cook or take you out for breakfast?"

Aziraphale smiles, and Crowley feels a little less grumpy. "Well, we haven't been to Bob Evans in a while."

Crowley sits up on the side of the bed, rubbing his palms over his eyes, forcing himself to wake up. "Then Bob Evans it is.”

"Excellent dear." Aziraphale walks out of the room to get ready, carrying himself with the sort of smugness only he can.

Crowley stands, half sleep drunk, and begins shuffling through his clothes. He settles on dark blue jeans and a black Eric Church hoodie. Grabbing underwear and socks, he follows Aziraphale's path down the hallway.

"Sorry I'm grumpy, Aziraphale." He calls through the bathroom door. He doesn't like it when Aziraphale feels put out. Especially if he's the one that caused it.

"Nonsense." Crowley jumps as the door opens with a pop, just enough to reveal Aziraphale's face. "I honestly took no offense. You wore yourself out yesterday, and I'm very proud of you."

Allowing the door to swing all the way open, Crowley is suddenly faced with Aziraphale in all his angelic glory. "Now are you going to just stand there gaping, or are you going to join me?"

"Um, no. I mean, yes." Crowley, trips over his own feet trying to get through the door. Setting his outfit on the bathroom counter. "Yes, I'll join you." Crowley begins to hurriedly remove his clothing.

When he turns to look at Aziraphale again, his Angel is bent over the tub, filling it with water. "Good, because I felt like a bath. It's so very chilly outside, and I think it would do your legs muscles good to soak in hot water."

Crowley forgets how to speak, his full attention currently drawn to the perfect round ass elevated before him. Aziraphale turns the spigots, tests the water with his hands, and melts Crowley's brains to mush. "I do hope you find the water an acceptable temperature." He straightens his back and turns facing Crowley. "Do you prefer any specific scents?"

Crowley watches as Aziraphale leans over the counter, reaching above it to the cupboards that line the right wall.

"Whatever you like, Angel." Crowley wants to grab that soft flesh, and squeeze.

"You know I love vanilla." He grabs a large bottle of the fragrant suds. "Yes, here's the bottle of....Oh!"

Crowley can't help himself, Aziraphale's stunning. As the blond turns, Crowley catches him in a desperate kiss. The container of bubble bath drops to the floor with a loud thud. With both his hands now free, Aziraphale grabs handfuls of wild, sleep tossed, red hair.

"You're beautiful." Crowley breathes between kisses. "Sexy, tempting, so unbelievably gorgeous."

"Anthony." Aziraphale moans, before slipping his tongue into Crowley's mouth.

_God, I love him._ Crowley thinks. It almost hurts the way he loves Aziraphale sometimes. Like now, the way his chest fills with the pressure of it, until he feels he might explode.

Crowley slides his tongue against his Angel's, as he presses him back against the sink. Crowley doesn't just want Aziraphale, he needs him, not just physically, but in every way possible. If he could meld their souls, their bodies into one single being he would. Crowley knows he will never be capable of living, without Aziraphale, ever again. Sometimes it's still hard for Crowley to believe that anyone this gorgeous, smart and sophisticated would settle for a poor, scrawny, hilljack. The whole situation feels like a dream, and Crowley hopes he never has to wake up.

Prior to that fateful September day over a year ago, Crowley would have scoffed at the idea of soulmates. But now? Now he understands. Aziraphale is the piece of his soul Crowley was missing. No. Aziraphale is his soul, Crowley's entire reason for living. Without him, Crowley would have no reason to go on.

"Stop." Aziraphale pulls back panting for breath.

Crowley releases him and steps away giving Aziraphale space. "Sorry. Sorry."

Aziraphale laughs shaking his head and points towards the tub. "Turn off the water."

Crowley turns to see the porcelain basin nearly filled to the rim. "Oh, fuck!" He joins Aziraphale in laughing as he runs over to turn off the faucet.

Aziraphale steps beside him, bottle of bath suds in hand. "Let me drain it a bit."

Crowley steps out of the way, watching the movements and curves of his Angel's body. Aziraphale gets everything just the way he likes, and slides into the steaming water. Once situated, he gestures for Crowley to join him. Crowley seats himself between Aziraphale's legs, leaning back onto his strong chest and soft stomach. Crowley can feel Aziraphale's erection pressed against his back.

The water is warm and Crowley revels in the sensation of the heat soaking into his aching leg muscles, still sore from the previous day's run. Aziraphale's hands grasp Crowley's shoulders and begins to knead at the tension there. Crowley melts into the touch, moaning softly. He can feel the thick, hard shaft against his back twitch.

Aziraphale continues the gesture for several minutes, until Crowley is completely at the blond's mercy. Turning his head, Crowley lays soft, wet kisses along his Angel's chin. He tastes so good, like salt and sweat from the steam of the water.

"I love you, Angel." Crowley murmurs dreamily, as he nuzzles the soft skin of his neck. "You're amazing."

Aziraphale kisses red hair. "I love you too, darling. More than I could ever express." He runs his hands over Crowley's chest, causing him to gasp as a manicured nail scrapes over his nipple. "Now, I'd like to bath you, if you're amenable."

"Mhmmm." Crowley is putty beneath Aziraphale's sure fingers. "You can do anything to me you want, dove."

Crowley feels the vibration of Aziraphale's chest as he giggles, before laying Crowley's head back against his chest. Aziraphale takes a plastic cup from the side of the bath and fills it with water. Carefully he pours the contents through Crowley's hair, ensuring to keep the water from trickling into his lover's face. Next is the shampoo, Aziraphale takes his time massaging the fragrant soap into Crowley's scalp.

It feels so good, so caring and erotic, Crowley gets lost in the sensations. He knows the sounds of enjoyment he makes have an effect on Aziraphale. He can hear his Angel's staggered breathing, and the friction against his back as Aziraphale ruts gently against him.

"You're too good to me." Crowley whispers as Aziraphale rinses his hair. "Don't deserve you."

"Hush." Aziraphale breaths into his ear, as he settles Crowley's head against his shoulder. "I'm yours for always, Anthony. You're more than worthy of this sort of love."

His lathered hands move over Crowley's arms and sides. Leaning Crowley forward Aziraphale soaps down his back, making the skin between them slick. Without rinsing any away, he returns Crowley’s body tightly against him again.

_Clever Angel_. Crowley thinks as he feels Aziraphale use the slick to slide his dick between their bodies.

Moving his hands over Crowley's chest, Aziraphale's soft fingers work through red chest hair. Stopping to circle two erect nipples, as he trails kisses over Crowley's tattoo, ear, and nape of his neck. "Does this feel good, my love?"

"Yessss, Angel." It feels so good, Crowley is literally hissing under the pleasure. "Your hands are fucking amazing."

"Let's see how amazing. Shall we?" Aziraphale leaves his left hand, circling and pinching Crowley's red hard mound, the other slowly finding its way down Crowley's hard stomach. Following over the trail of hair, just below his navel, lower and lower until Aziraphale's warm hand reaches Crowley's aching shaft.

"Please show me, Angel." He begs, and Aziraphale take's Crowley's cock in hand, gently at first, loose grip, sliding slowly from bottom to tip. The sensation just enough to tease, to make Crowley’s body want more. He hears Aziraphale's staggered breathing, and that’s as erotic as the hand on his dick.

_He's enjoying this. He wants to watch me, to see me beg._

"Harder, Aziraphale." He moans against is lover's neck. "Faster, please."

The last two words leaving Crowley's lips in a desperate whine. He knows when he falls apart in this way it makes Aziraphale feel powerful. So, Crowley doesn't fight it. He would give his full autonomy to Aziraphale if he could, if he knew it would heal every scar, every fear his Angel suffers. There is nothing he wants more, no one he wants more in this God forsaken world. Whatever Aziraphale wants, he will ultimately get, even if Crowley has to sacrifice everything to give it to him.

Aziraphale grips him harder, quickening his movements. Crowley's hands clutch thick, strong thighs, feeling the supple skin give beneath his fingers. "Yes, Angel. Just like that!"

Crowley can feel himself close to the edge, as Aziraphale’s breathing becomes more broken. Wrapping his left arm around Crowley's middle, Aziraphale holds him firmly in place, rutting against him faster. The motion is so impassioned, so desperate, and there is nothing Crowley finds sexier, than Aziraphale losing control. He knows neither of them will last much longer now.

Wanting Aziraphale to go first, Crowley pushes himself against his Angel as tight as possible, nipping gently at his gorgeous neck. "Come for me, Angel. I want you to cover me."

"At the same time, Anthony." Aziraphale's voice is husky with pleasure.

Crowley looks up, Aziraphale's eyes are wide and desperate. He's watching Crowley's dick hungrily, as his hand continues to pump to the rhythm of his own thrusts. Crowley is mesmerized by the beauty unfolding behind him. "I'm close, Aziraphale, so close."

Aziraphale's left hand splays open, palm against Crowley's chest, as his heavy-lidded eyes shut. Aziraphale is losing himself in the friction against Crowley's back, and Crowley watches as his Angel tips over that edge.

"Oh, shit, Anthony!" The orgasm causes Aziraphale to tighten his grip, wrist flicking just so, and sending Crowley over seconds behind him. Aziraphale stroking him through, until the last of his seed is spent.

Relaxed and love drunk, Crowley rolls lazily in the water to face Aziraphale. "You're magnificent. You know that right?"

Aziraphale smiles, face a rosy pink from the heat of the water and what they'd just done. Crowley's never seen anything more beautiful in his life.

"Thank you, dear. " Aziraphale says sweetly. "I wanted to give you a congratulations gift for your new job. And this is something I feel comfortable doing."

Crowley kisses him softly. "You never have to go down on me, Aziraphale. The things you are comfortable with are enough, mind blowing really." Crowley pushes a damp blond curl away from Aziraphale's forehead. "Hell, Angel, if you never had sex with me again, I still never want anyone else. You're it for me."

Crowley can see the emotion welling in bright blue eyes. "I love you, darling."

"Love you too." Crowley kisses him again and smiles. "Now stand up. We've destroyed the bath water. I think we should shower."

* * *

**One Hour Later.**

Arm in arm, Crowley and Aziraphale walk across the Bob Evans' parking lot. Aziraphale can't stop looking at the brilliant man beside him. "You're absolutely stunning with your new haircut, Anthony."

Crowley lifts his sunglasses to rest on top of his head. His mouth curling into a lopsided smile, that Aziraphale finds absolutely adorable. Crowley kisses him on the ear, whispering a soft, "Thank you." Sending chills through Aziraphale's body.

Unhooking their arms, Crowley holds open the large wooden restaurant door. Stepping inside they are greeted, by a very down on the farm sort of décor, and a smiling hostess.

"How many?" She's a bubbly woman, medium build with dark hair.

"Two." Aziraphale smiles, taking Crowley's hand. "Table please."

They pass a small gift shop area, restrooms and a long counter to the left. At the end of the counter closest to the gift shop are two cash registers, the rest is set up like a long bar where individuals can set and eat. To the right is a larger dining area, to which they are being led.

"Is this okay?" She asks, gesturing to a table beside one of the windows.

"Yeah, thanks. A hot chocolate and a coffee." Crowley informs her before she scurries off. He takes Aziraphale's jacket and pulls out his chair. Once his Angel is situated, Crowley puts their jackets in the spare chair beside himself and sits directly across from his fiancé. Reaching across the table, they take one another's hands.

"Thank you again for this morning." Crowley moves his thumbs over Aziraphale's knuckles.

The motion is so tender, Aziraphale can't help but smile. Crowley stares at him, and Aziraphale could spend forever in those beautiful golden eyes. He's so exotic. So unfathomably stunning. Getting lost in the memory of watching Crowley's lean body writhe against him, Aziraphale feels his cock stir.

"I rather enjoyed it myself, if I'm being honest." He shifts to hide the evidence of the memory.

The waitress arrives at the table with their drink order, causing them to look up. She's young, late teens or early twenties, black hair with pink and purple streaks, dark skin and brown eyes. She stares at Aziraphale excitedly. "Oh, I love your hair! Is that natural?"

Aziraphale, startled by the outburst, jumps. "Well, yes, it is actually. The color and the curls."

"OMG! You're British! British guys are so hot!" Her eyes are huge, Aziraphale looks to Crowley desperately for help.

"He is hot. And taken." Crowley drawls gesturing with a tilt of his hands to their locked hands. There is no venom in his voice, he almost seems to be enjoying this.

"Are you two a couple?" She moves her attention to Crowley who nods. "His hair is sooooo pretty." She points to Aziraphale. "I bet it's soft. Is it soft?"

Crowley laughs, Aziraphale is mortified. "It is soft, like angel's down."

She makes a squealing noise, and jumping slightly. "That is so cute!" She smiles back and forth between them for a moment before looking back to the blond. "You are the prettiest couple I've ever seen in real life." Her eyes focused solely on Aziraphale now.

"Prettiest couple eh." Crowley says with a smirk.

Seeming to not notice, the young lady continues. "My name is Jaleesa, and I'll be your server."

"Yes, I gathered that." Crowley says sarcastically.

She blushes. "What would you both like?"

“I would like the steak and eggs, medium well and sunny side up. Toast not biscuits." Aziraphale averts eye contact.

Jaleesa writes on her pad nodding. "And you?" She turns to Crowley.

"Same except I want the steak rare." He gives her a wry smile. "Thanks."

As she walks away, Crowley looks at Aziraphale, glint of mischief in his eyes. "Prettiest couple she's ever seen, Angel."

“Well, I think she must have been focused on you dear." Aziraphale can feel himself overheating with embarrassment. No one ever pays attention to him. Well except Crowley, and Aziraphale finds he doesn't like the attention from anyone else.

Crowley laughs, shaking his head. "Oh, no. It was obvious, her full focus was on you." The adoration on his face is unmistakable. "You really are the most beautiful thing God has ever created."

“Hush you.” Aziraphale blushes ever harder and drops his gaze to the table, smiling through the embarrassment.

Crowley clears his throat, face falling. "Speaking of misplaced female focus, I had something happen yesterday."

"What?" _What now?_ It seems there is always something to fret about.

Crowley seems to notice his tension. "I'm sorry, dove. I don't mean to stress you, but I need to talk about it, and you’re the one person I want knowing everything." He brings Aziraphale's hands to his lips. "Some woman kept eyeballing me. Tried talking to me. Flirting with me. I shot her down. Then she set right beside me during the test even though there were tons of space other places. She was aggressive, and it made me nervous."

Aziraphale squeezes his hand. "I'm sure you handled the problem the best you could. Thank you for telling me.”

"That's not all, Angel." Crowley looks at him, worry etched into his gorgeous face. "She was trying for ACF too. I didn't stick around to see if she passed. I booked it straight home to you."

Understanding begins to dawn on Aziraphale. "And you're worried she'll continue to harass you if hired."

“Yes." Crowley nods, obviously relieved Aziraphale gets it. "She really didn't do anything super aggressive, but she gave me a bad vibe.”

Aziraphale wants to be reassuring, he tries to think of something that might calm his love. "You were wrong about Shadwell, dear heart. Maybe you're wrong about her?"

"Maybe, Angel." It breaks Aziraphale's heart how frightened he looks. "I hope you're right." He looks out the window. "I don't want some outside force messing up everything we've worked for, and I know how crazy some people can be."

“Anthony, look at me.” Crowley turns to face him. “I trust you, and I love you. No one, and nothing will ever change those two facts.” Aziraphale says with conviction. Even when he feels unworthy, he has always trusted that Crowley sees him as enough. Total faith when Crowley says he will never hurt or desert him. “Do you believe me, darling?”

Eyes glistening, Crowley nods. He squeezes Aziraphale’s hands. “Thank you.” Crowley looks lost in thought. “I’ll talk to Sal about it today. She’ll know how to handle it if something does come up.”

This time Aziraphale brings Crowley’s hands to his lips. “That sounds like a very wise decision.” A new worry begins to plague Aziraphale’s mind. “You don’t think she’s a danger to you?”

Jaleesa appears, interrupting with their food. “Is there anything else I can get you?”

Aziraphale releases Crowley’s hands. “No thank you. We’re fine for now.”

Jaleesa sighs, looking lovesick. “Your accent is heavenly.”

Crowley clears his throat and she seems to remember herself. “So sorry. If you need anything flag me down.”

Crowley laughs as she walks away. “I’ll tell ya, the woman at the academy isn’t silly and harmless like her.” He points towards Jaleesa behind the counter. Looking down at his plate Crowley shakes his head. “I can’t explain it, but it’s just a really strong feeling. Nothing I can pinpoint exactly, I just know she’s not good.”

“Just talk to Sal.” Aziraphale says between bites. “Remember, you have an inside advantage the other new hires don’t.” He watches as Crowley considers his words. “I mean if she tries to start something, I’m fairly certain she’d be gone much sooner than you.”

Aziraphale watches as the tension slowly leaves Crowley’s face. “You’re right, Angel.” Crowley stands and leans across the table to kiss him.

Aziraphale knows how to read Crowley, most times knows what he’s thinking. Can sense his fears and just like now, can decipher how to assuage those fears.

They settle over their meals in comfortable silence for several minutes before Aziraphale speaks. “What do you think of October 28?”

Crowley looks up confused. “For what?”

“Our wedding dear. You know not this October 28 that’s too soon, but as in a year from next week.”

“Sure, whenever you want.” Crowley has cleared his plate and sets it aside. “What made you pick that day, though?”

“I just feel it.” Aziraphale shrugs. “Like that day should be an anniversary for us. Can’t fully explain it.” He looks up into golden eyes. “Don’t even understand it myself really. It’s ineffable I suppose.”

“Ineffable.” Crowley laughs. “That’s a good description for us.” He’s watching Aziraphale now. “We fell in love so fast and so hard. Won the right to be together even faced with the most difficult of obstacles.” Crowley leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes remaining locked happily on Aziraphale. “I know I’d take on heaven and hell to keep you Angel.”

“And I you.” Aziraphale would, he knows he would.

“Ineffable lovers.” Crowley smiles, his gaze drifting out the window.

“Soon to be ineffable husbands.” Aziraphale reminds him.

Crowley turns his eyes away from the window and back to Aziraphale’s. “I like that even better.” The smile that crosses his face is almost blinding. “Ineffable husbands.”

* * *

**2 Hours Later**

Aziraphale and Crowley leave Walmart, cart full. Crowley helps his angel onto his seat before loading the bags into the back of the extended cab.

Neither notices they are being watched as they exit the store. Nor do they pay any mind to the black car with tinted windows following them out of the lot. At least not at first.

Crowley does take notice when the same vehicle turns onto their dirt road, a three and a half mile stretch, before it dead ends a half mile past their house.

“What’s wrong, Anthony?” Aziraphale must have picked up on Crowley’s tension. Blue eyes watch him intently.

Crowley shakes his head. “Probably nothing.” He reaches across the seat to take Aziraphale’s hand. “But that car has been behind us since Walmart. And there’s no other houses out here but ours.”

“Maybe they’re just lost?” Aziraphale turns to watch out the back window.

“Maybe. Just to be safe, scoot over here beside me.” Aziraphale complies, sliding over until there is no space between them. “When I park the truck, you follow me out quickly. If they turn up the driveway, you go directly in the house and lock the door.

“What about you?” Aziraphale squeezes Crowley’s hand, turned again to watch the strange vehicle.

“If they follow, I want to know what they want.” Crowley braces himself. This is going to get a reaction.

Aziraphale whips his head towards Crowley, the look on his face incredulous. “Excuse me! I think not! You will march your little ass through that front door with me!”

“Aziraphale, I’m not going to look like I’m scared to defend my home and husband.” Crowley is exasperated, but not angry. He’s too touched by Aziraphale’s protective streak to be angry.

“Then give me a chance to actually become your husband and get inside where you actually have things to defend yourself with!” Crowley knows Aziraphale has seen the news reports, same as he has, of home invasions. Defenseless people held at gunpoint, being robbed or worse.

“Angel, please calm down. You’re being ridiculous.”

“Anthony James Crowley, you will follow me into that house, or I’m staying outside too.” Aziraphale’s face is set hard. Determination in his blue eyes.

“Fine, I’ll go inside.” Crowley growls. There is no way in Hell he will have Aziraphale waiting outside if this person or people turn out to be dangerous.

Crowley relaxes, as they turn up the driveway, the car does not follow. Instead, it continues down the road towards the dead end.

“There, no worries.” Aziraphale breaths an obvious sigh of relief. “They were just turned around, I’m sure.”

“Looks so, Angel.” Crowley helps him exit the truck.

As they pack in the groceries, Crowley openly laughs at his overreaction. Inwardly wondering what the fuck is wrong with him these days? Aziraphale’s under enough stress without him acting like a scared little shit over the smallest things.

“Sorry I freaked out like that, Aziraphale.” Crowley says fifteen minutes later. They are both in the kitchen, Crowley setting out everything he needs to begin cooking.

“I understand, dear.” Aziraphale steps up to hug him from behind. “You and I have been through quite a lot.” Crowley turns to face him, placing his own arms over Aziraphale’s shoulders. “You’re my knight in shining armor, Anthony.”

Crowley smiles and leans in to kiss him. The moment is interrupted by the sound of glass shattering, a loud whoosh, and a crackling roar.

Aziraphale gasps, pulling Crowley tighter. “What was that?!”

“I don’t know.” Crowley pulls out of the embrace. “Stay here.”

Not waiting for a reply, Crowley leaves Aziraphale standing in stunned silence, as he bolts through the living room, crashing out the front door. The moment he is on the porch he stops, the air knocked out of him like he’s hit a wall.

He hears the screen door opening behind him. “Don’t look Aziraphale!”

_Aziraphale can’t see this. Don’t let him see this._ Crowley turns to block his view and move him far away from the house and the driveway.

“Oh my God, Anthony!” Aziraphale’s voice is borderline hysterical.

Crowley quickly takes Aziraphale in his arms and begins to herd him a safe distance from the danger before the terror can spread. “Call 9-1-1. Tell them we need fire trucks here now!”

Aziraphale just stares in horror. The driver’s window of Crowley’s truck is shattered, what can only be described as an inferno, engulfing the cab. Flaming tongues reaching ungodly high, lapping dangerously close to the porch and house. In black, bubbling paint along the side of the vehicle someone has painted **BURN IN HELL.**


	6. Just One Yesterday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale has progressed to a place of anger from being so sick of always feeling fear. He’s seething from suffering so long and doesn’t fully understand how to get all that anger out but has an idea of where he wants it directed. Crowley’s issues are starting to show through. He can’t always be the strong one. Andrew works to find who’s responsible for what’s happening to his family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this chapter is a Fallout Boy song

Aziraphale should respond. He knows Crowley is talking, can see his mouth moving, but can't hear him. With his vision blurred, Aziraphale barely sees him. What he can see are angry tongues of red, licking upward. Engulfing the once well-kept machine, heated waves flowing towards the house. Dancing colors of orange, gold, green and blue.

_Blue?_

Aziraphale's well read, he knows the heat of fire causes it to burn at varying hues, blue being the hottest. No normal flame can burn blue, not without help.

Crowley pulls him, holds him tightly, directing his feet. Aziraphale allows himself to be led. He wishes he could respond, Crowley needs him. Aziraphale fights to surface, he just can't find his way back yet. He is too far lost in the God-awful roar of flames that can only be the product of Hell.

_Anthony's crying._

Aziraphale wants to reach out, he hates himself that he can't. He feels trapped, wants to respond, to hold Crowley, comfort him, but Aziraphale's flesh won't allow it. So instead, he remains a bystander, imprisoned in his own mind.

Crowley hugs him before setting him gently on the ground several yards from the house. Aziraphale loses a large portion of time. The next thing he remembers, the fire is gone and two paramedics are kneeling beside him talking. As his hearing begins to return, he realizes the man to his left has asked him a question, but the words were lost.

"I'm sorry, what?" Aziraphale feels like his is waking from a dream. His voice ethereal and not his own.

"You seem to be in shock, sir." The man is near his own age, early thirties at best. "Have you sustained any physical injuries?"

Aziraphale glances down, patting his hands over his torso in confused assessment. "Um, no. No, I don't believe so."

The woman to his right, older with short strawberry blonde hair, speaks next. "Do you think you can stand?"

Aziraphale nods, not entirely certain this isn't some strange dream. Offering each a hand, they pull him to his feel, walking a few steps behind for support.

Moving in the direction of the house, Aziraphale glimpses the charred remains of the Dodge, as it is loaded onto a large flat bed. A fire engine is parked at the bottom of the drive. Three fire fighters are coiling a large hose around a metal bracket mounted to the side of the vehicle. An ambulance sets in front of the red behemoth, and six personal vehicles are packed in behind.

Aziraphale feels a rush of relief at the sight of their home, untouched by the fire. Encircled by their friends and family, Crowley stands, shoulders hunched, head resting on Alexis' shoulder, shaking in her arms.

Anathema, noticing Aziraphale's approach, taps Crowley. He slowly raises his head, and she gestures in the direction of the blond. Crowley turns, hair disheveled, eyes puffy, face red and tear stained.

"Angel!" The red-head rushes forward, nearly knocking both of them to the ground, taking Aziraphale in his arms and clutching him tightly. "Are you alright? You went away."

At the sight of Crowley broken and frightened, Aziraphale shatters. Grappling desperately at the man he loves, Aziraphale in return wraps Crowley in a crushing embrace. Both men cling to each other as they sob.

Aziraphale is a churning pot of relief, anger and fear. Relief that he and Crowley are ok, his fiancé safe in his arms.

Angry that anyone would dare attack either of them at their home, would destroy something in which Crowley has taken great care.

Fear that Crowley could have been injured if he had been outside when the vandal had returned. Would Crowley be gone now, instead of the truck? Aziraphale begins shaking, the thought making him ill.

Crowley's voice is hushed through his tears. "Shhhh, it's alright dove. I've got you. Aziraphale feels kisses pressed in his hair. "I've always got you."

Aziraphale holds him for several minutes. Fighting to anchor himself back to reality, back to where Crowley needs him to be.

When their tears are spent and both sag with exhaustion, Crowley leads Aziraphale to the house, both finding a seat on the sofa. Aziraphale notices Andrew has followed him through the door, features etched with concern, another officer with him, male maybe forty, dark hair. He wears a badge reading Officer Shaw.

Andrew removes his hat, taking a knee in front of the couple. "How ya feeling, cuz?"

His tone is brotherly, filled with familial affection. It takes Aziraphale several seconds to realize it's directed at him.

"I'm okay." Aziraphale picks at the knee of his trousers. "Considering."

Andrew nods, Aziraphale hates the way he looks at him, the way someone would a frightened child. _I've done it again, haven't I? Can't handle myself at all._

"You okay enough to answer some questions?"

Crowley twines their hands, swallowing hard, Aziraphale nods.

"Good." Andrew smiles. "We know about what happened at Freedom Baptist. Can you think of anyone else who might have done this?"

Aziraphale scans his memory, which honestly isn't working all that well at the moment. Gabriel is the only person he had ever met cruel enough to stage something like this. Since that is obviously no longer an issue. "No, well not really. I mean I did have another member of the church stop by the library on Friday, to talk."

"What?" Crowley sounds hurt. "Why didn't you tell me?'

"I didn't want you to worry anymore than you already do." Aziraphale smiles apologetically. "And I handled myself quite well actually." He squeezes Crowley's arm to say _I'll tell you later_. Turning to Andrew. "The assistant pastor, Jason Vanderbilt, and his wife."

"Did they make any threats?" Officer Shaw is cold and professional, lacking all of Andrew’s warmth.

"No, but they made me uncomfortable." A mix of embarrassment and anger swell in his chest, clenching around his lungs. He fights back the urge to cry, angry at himself now for even wanting to.

"Well, what did they do?" Shaw is making his annoyance clear. Andrew shoots his colleague a nasty look.

A new flame flickers in the pit of Aziraphale's stomach, and he finds it difficult to breath. Crowley releases his hand, winding the arm around Aziraphale's waist. The touch helps him to calm. Aziraphale has never been a fighter, more a lover and a runner. But over the past few weeks, he finds himself, fighting the urge to rage out. That painful humming in his bones, wanting release through destruction. A gentle touch from his fiancé the only thing to calm that storm. Aziraphale takes a breath and steadies himself. "He offered to officiate our wedding."

Shaw scoffs and Aziraphale feels Crowley tense, and Andrew speaks before anyone else can. "Did anything else occur while they were there?"

Aziraphale shakes his head. "No, I refused their offer. They were condescending, and I was suspicious as to their true intentions. They stood watching me from the doorway for several minutes, before finally leaving."

Andrew pats his hand and rises from the floor. "Thank you. This gives me an excellent place to start." He gestures to the group waiting outside. "You still want them here? Or you want me to let them know you need space right now?"

Crowley looks to Aziraphale, waiting for a cue on how to respond. The blond nods, laying his free hand on his fiancé's knee.

"Tell them not to leave but wait outside until one of us comes get them." Crowley's eyes now fixed on Aziraphale.

Andrew nods, returning his wide brimmed hat to settle atop dark curls. "Anything out of the ordinary happens, no matter how small, you call me." Andrew says pointedly. "Can you both promise me that?"

"We can, and we will." At Crowley's words, Andrew visibly relaxes. Tipping his hat, he and Shaw step out the door.

Crowley runs his fingers in circular motions over Aziraphale's back. "You should have told me they showed at your work, Angel."

Aziraphale lays his head on Crowley's shoulder. "I told you, it wasn't a big deal, and I didn't want to worry you. You worry over me enough already."

Crowley wraps the other arm around Aziraphale, fully embracing him. "I'm here to help you. A help-mate, I believe is the word. Isn't that what the Bible says a spouse is?"

Aziraphale hums, he knows Crowley doesn't have the same faith he does. So, if Crowley is reading the Bible, well he's most likely doing it for Aziraphale.

"Well, yes my dear, it does." He lifts his face to kiss Crowley's tattoo. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I'll be sure to do so from now on."

Crowley kisses him back, then looks through the window at the group standing outside. "I'll bring the chairs from the kitchen if you tell everyone to come in."

Aziraphale pats Crowley's knee. "Probably best. It's rather cold and they've stood out there a good bit of time."

Parting ways momentarily, Aziraphale opens the front door. "So sorry for today's chaos. Won't you all come in?"

Crowley carries in the two wooden chairs from the kitchen, Beez takes one, Sal the other. Bri, Alexis and Aziraphale set left to right on the sofa, Crowley on the floor, between Aziraphale's legs. Tracy and Newt take the loveseat, with Anathema on Newt's lap.

Other than the occasional cough, and throat clearing, an uncomfortable amount of time is spent in silence. Each person lost in their own thoughts. Aziraphale scans the faces, most look worried except Beez who appears angry. No, that's not anger, that's rage.

Sick of the silence, Aziraphale speaks. "We chose a date."

Newt startles, and the rest turn to look in his direction.

Crowley leans his head against his Angel's knee. "We did, October 28, next year."

Aziraphale finds solace, running his fingers in soft red hair. The motion keeps him grounded, helps him stay in control. He longs to get Crowley alone, to hold him as closely as possible and know he's safe. A harbor from this storm, panting, breathless, wrapped in long limbs, and passionate kisses.

_Later._ He tells himself _. I'll find that comfort later_.

"Very magically charged time of year." Anathema valiantly helps to continue the conversation.

"Is it?" Crowley lays his head back, tensions easing as he basks in Aziraphale's attention.

She nods. "The veil is thinning. Easier for the spirits and gods to walk among us."

"The town is throwing a Halloween party next weekend at the Liberty Center. Tracy joins in. Waving her hand dismissively. "Well Harvest Party. If they called it a Halloween party, the churches would shut it down."

The room goes quiet and then Aziraphale speaks, there’s an edge to his voice. "Why can't they just leave people alone. We aren't taking anything from them."

"Don't know, dove." Crowley's amber eyes open, to look at him. "Even I never expected them to be that horrible." He points out the window, where a charred truck once sat.

* * *

**8:00PM**

Crowley stands on the porch, Aziraphale by his side, as they wave goodbye to the stream of visitors. Each person helping to make a horrible day into something they could manage. From their purchased groceries, Bri and Alexis prepared a meal of tacos and burritos, Newt and Anathema did the clean-up. Everyone else kept the conversation easy and away from that subject after Tracy's faux pas. Having them all around, made the situation easier, although a heaviness remained at the edges. The atmosphere similar to that of a wake, where everyone knows something horribly life changing has happened, but are pulling together to soften the effect. They all stayed throughout the evening, except Beez, who left early looking upset.

As the last car pulls away, Crowley feels the solitude of country living settle upon him. The night's darkness seems to creep in closer, threatening to wrap around them, and mask them from each other. "Let’s get inside, Angel."

Aziraphale follows into the warmth and light of the house. Crowley makes quick work of locking doors and ensuring all the windows are latched tight. Today was too much, too close, and Crowley knows he'll be on high alert tonight.

His Angel looks drained, beautiful but drained. Crowley loves it here, in the home he was raised, the home he hoped to raise his own children, on the land his grandfather left him. But he can't expect Aziraphale to keep living like this.

"Let's leave." Crowley finishes closing the curtains, hiding them both from the outside world.

"What?" Aziraphale watches him from his perch on the sofa.

"Let's leave." Crowley turns to face him. "Move far away, maybe a big city, where people are more tolerant and we'll be left alone."

Aziraphale's eyes draw down, Crowley notices the way the Angel's jaw twitches as he chews on the inside of his mouth. "But this is our home. Our family is here, our life."

Crowley walks to Aziraphale, kneeling before him. "You're my family, Angel. I need you safe. Happy." Crowley takes his hands. "I need to get you away from here."

"No, Anthony." Aziraphale's face set. "I'm not leaving."

"Angel, please." Crowley begs. "This place is no good, we need to go far. Maybe north, like Cleveland, or Michigan. I've read New York and Maine are nice." Crowley knows he sounds frantic. He's thinking hard, trying to come up with anywhere Aziraphale might consider. "Hell, I'll sell everything I own and take you back to London."

Aziraphale scans the living room, eyes taking in each photo of family he had personally hung.

"No." He looks back to Crowley, desperate on the floor. "I've spent my entire life as an outcast, unloved and frightened. This is the first place I've ever felt safe and wanted."

"But you're not safe!" Crowley pleads.

Aziraphale shakes his head, pulling Crowley into his lap. "No place is safe, Anthony. The world is corrupt, but we're safer here than anywhere else." He slides fingers through red hair, just above Crowley's ear. "I've survived Gabriel Strong. I'll be damned if a bunch of religious nuts push me away from the only place and only people I've ever considered home."

Crowley isn't sure what to think, other than this is not at all the reaction he expected. "Aren't you afraid?"

"Terrified." Aziraphale concedes. "But also, extremely pissed off." And he looks pissed off, a determined rage, burning behind sky blue eyes. "I've decided if life is going to continuously, forgive my language, shit on me, then I'm going to shit on it back."

_Aziraphale's lost his mind._ Crowley watches him dumbstruck. His mouth moving, trying to form words, but no sound will come out.

"Don't look at me like that, Anthony." His Angel snaps. Crowley isn't sure how he looks as he tries to steel his face. Aziraphale's frown deepens. "I'm angry. I've been angry since that couple strolled their conceited asses into the library." Tears gather in the corners of Aziraphale's eyes. "I want someone to pay for the past that's been taken away from me, and I refuse to let anyone take my future."

"Angel?" Crowley says softly, carefully reaching to wipe away the stream of tears falling over Aziraphale's flush face.

His Angel laying his own hand over Crowley's, holding both together against his cheek. "And I’ll be damned if I let them take anymore from you." Aziraphale breaks into shaking sobs.

Crowley turns to face him, straddling Aziraphale's legs so he can hug the blond to his chest. "I'm sorry, Aziraphale." Crowley feels strong arms return his embrace as tears wet his shirt. " You're right, we belong here. I shouldn't have pushed it."

"Don't apologize, Anthony." His Angel lifts his head to look Crowley in the eyes. "You were doing what you always do. Sacrificing yourself to care for me."

The adoration on Aziraphale's face opens Crowley wide. He can't put together the words to explain what he's feeling, it's all too much, everything is too much. Crowley rests his forehead against Aziraphale's and both openly weep. They stay this way until their breathing calms. Aziraphale's hands sliding ever so gently up and down the length of Crowley's spine.

Aziraphale turns his face and softly whispers against Crowley's lips. "Take me to bed love."

* * *

Andrew sits back on his sofa that evening, thinking over the day’s events. His wife Lisa in the floor with their daughter, toys scattered between them.

"Doesn't make sense." He says leaning forward, resting his hands on his knees. "I can't think of who else it could be."

Andrew had visited Barney Shoemaker's home earlier that day. Receiving no response and the house appearing empty, he had walked to the neighboring home. The owner, a polite younger man, who informed Andrew, the entire family had gone away on a weekend long retreat to Hope of Our Father Retreat Center in Akron, Ohio. Upon further questioning he discovered practically the entire church has gone as a way to _"better connect with the church family and God."_

Andrew made phone contact with the center, and they confirmed both the Shoemaker's and the Vanderbilt's have been present since Friday evening, along with the majority of the congregation.

"They couldn't have left and gone back?" Lisa asks, while accepting a toy phone from her four-year-old.

"It's a three and a half hour drive one way." Andrew places his hands on the back of his neck, tilting his head to look at the ceiling. "Nearly impossible one of them could go missing for close to seven hours without someone noticing."

Lisa pulls herself onto the sofa to sit beside her husband. "So, what's your next move?"

"I'll need to ask Aziraphale and Crowley if they can think of anyone else it could be." He dreads the conversation. They had both been on edge, and the way his cousin had broken down was disheartening.

Anthony Crowley has always been a tough man. Andrew, three years his junior, looks up to him. Nothing ever phased Crowley or frightened him. Not until he fell in love. The way he snapped when Aziraphale had become disconnected was shattering. Andrew knows that his childhood superhero has finally found his kryptonite.

“They’ve both been through too much already.” Andrew put his arm around Lisa, his eyes focused on his daughter. “They deserve to be happy, and I hate I can’t fix this for them.”

Lisa leans her head on his shoulder. “You will. Aren’t you going to see them tomorrow?”

“Yeah.” Andrew lays his head against his wife’s. Alexis had called him earlier, Crowley and Aziraphale needed a ride to look at cars. Crowley still has $60,000 remaining from selling the Bentley, and he needs a car to get him to work on Monday. Alexis asked Andrew to go along, because Crowley plans to surprise Aziraphale with a car of his own. They would need Andrew to help get both new vehicles home.

“So, find a time to chat it over with them.” Lisa looks worried as well. Andrew knows she loves both men as much as he does. “Ya’ll will figure this out.” She snuggles closer against him. “It’ll be okay.”

Andrew takes her hand and kisses it. “Thank you.”

* * *

**11 Hours Later**

Crowley finds himself awake in bed. He’s still naked, but no longer tangled in Aziraphale’s arms. Rolling to wrap himself back around his Angel, Crowley can see the outline of the other man’s form setting up against the headboard. It’s dark except the green glow of the digital clock, illuminating the left side of Aziraphale’s face.

“You okay, Angel?” Crowley asks, pulling himself into a sitting position.

Aziraphale pats Crowley’s hands, without turning his face. “Are you okay, Anthony?”

“Yeah, m’fine.” There’s a cold churning in the pit of Crowley’s stomach. “Why’re you just sitting up staring like that?”

The left side of Aziraphale’s faces curves into a grin. “Thinking. Remembering.” The Angel looks down at his hands. “Grieving for what might have been.”

_What does that mean?_

“Aziraphale..... Angel, have I done something wrong?” _Does he regret this? Us?_ Crowley leans around Aziraphale to look him in the eyes. The blond turns his head away.

“You did your best darling, but it wasn’t enough. Was it?” Aziraphale refuses to look at him and Crowley panics.

“Listen, Angel, I’ll fix it. Whatever I did wrong I’ll fix it.” _Things were fine! We just made love! What did I do?!_ A darkness deep in Crowley‘s chest begins screaming, gnashing, gnawing at his heart.

Aziraphale swings his legs over the side of the bed reaching for the lamp. “It’s time to let me go, Anthony.”

Crowley wraps his arms around Aziraphale from behind, crying, clinging, begging him to stay. “No, please, angel. I love you. Don’t leave me. I’ll do anything. Please don’t go.”

Crowley feels warm liquid dripping onto his hand as Aziraphale flicks on the light. “Oh my dear, don’t you remember?” He finally turns to Crowley, right side of his face smeared in blood, the gash on his head re-opened.

“I left you a year ago.” He raises Crowley’s bloody hand to his face. “And it was all your fault.”

* * *

Crowley bolts up in bed, daylight pours in from outside and his hands are clean. _A nightmare. Just a shitty nightmare._

His fast erratic movements, jarring the beautiful blond beside him awake.

“Anthony.” Soft blue eyes look up at him. Gentle hands reach to hold him. “My dear, are you okay?”

Crowley tries to calm his breathing. “No, Angel, m’not.”

Aziraphale pulls him slowly back down onto the bed and onto his strong soft chest. “What happened, love?”

“How stuck are you on October 28?” Crowley murmurs against Aziraphale’s smooth skin. Finding it too difficult to answer the original question.

Crowley can feel fingers in his hair. “I mean we can do it another day if you really want.” Obvious confusion in his Angel’s voice.

“Tomorrow.” Crowley knows he sounds frantic. He _is_ frantic.

“Anthony, what happened?” Aziraphale’s strong arms hold him tighter.

_I need to know your safe Angel. I need to know that nothing can take you away from me. That you’re mine forever and you’re here._

“I’ll still give you a big ceremony later, if you want.” Crowley twists his head to look up at Aziraphale who is absolutely bewildered.

“Hear me out Aziraphale. If you marry me tomorrow, then when I start the new job in a week, you’ll already have the advantage of all my benefits. We can get you into see a therapist.” Crowley takes a breath, waiting.

“You didn’t answer any of my questions.” Aziraphale looks hurt. “And I think I deserve that before I answer yours.”

“Just a dream, Angel.” Crowley buries his face against Aziraphale’s chest. He doesn’t want to dredge up these memories. “That I lost you. I wasn’t enough, and I lost you.” He pulls himself further on to Aziraphale. “I need to know you’re mine, that you’re here, and going to stay.”

Aziraphale looks pained. “I am yours, Anthony. Forever, and I have no qualms with speeding up the marriage.” He says seriously. “I’ll agree to marry you tomorrow, on one condition.”

“Anything, Angel. Anything you want.” Crowley waits, prepared to carve out his own heart if Aziraphale requests it.

“Go to therapy with me.”


	7. Pot of Gold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this chapter is a Julie Roberts song. Hope everyone stays safe, love you all, hope you enjoy ❤️💚

**4 Hours Later**

Cradled in the softness of his large wingback chair, Aziraphale is lost within the pages of **_The Illiad_**. He loves this room and everything it represents, it’s a testament of Crowley's devotion, sacrifice and love. He listens as his soon-to-be-husband moves amongst the shelves, occasionally removing a volume, fluttering through the pages and then returning the book to it's rightful place.

Aziraphale glances up, catching sight of Crowley's angular figure at the end of one of the aisles. "I think I'll take your name."

"Really?" Crowley turns to face him, stepping into full view. "You sure?"

Aziraphale closes his book. "It does seem the most convenient option."

Rising from his seat, he walks to the writing table and places his book on the smooth wooden surface. "I want us to share a name, and everyone calls you Crowley. Seems logical that it may cause confusion if yours were to change."

"True." Crowley nods, lowering himself onto the desk chair. He pats his legs as an invitation for Aziraphale to sit. The blond complies, straddling his fiancé's lap, draping his arms over Crowley's shoulders and clasping his hands at the nape of a freckled neck.

"Also, I like the claim it gives you." Pink lips brush feather soft against Crowley's. "Legal proof I'm yours, and always will be."

Golden eyes flutter shut as Crowley exhales. "Mine."

"Aziraphale Crowley." His lips slide across Crowley's sharp cheekbones to his ear. "Do you like that? Me taking your name?" The slender body beneath him shudders.

"Yes." The response is breathy, aroused. Crowley's hands grasp the fabric of a soft, lavender sweater.

Aziraphale smiles, trailing languid kisses along Crowley's jaw, corners of his mouth, and finally wine-red lips. There is nothing hard or hurried about the kiss. This is not a fit of passion, but an expression of love, so deep no words could ever truly describe what they feel for each other. Inenarrable, indefinable, inexpressible...….

_Ineffable._ Aziraphale smiles as the word, once again, floats to the forefront of his mind. Crowley pulls away from Aziraphale's lips to slide his own against the soft skin of the Angel's throat.

"I love you, Anthony." Aziraphale tilts his head to give Crowley better access.

"Love you too." The words are whispered against heated skin, followed by a velvet tongue.

Aziraphale exhales, the release of air broken and staggered. His mind considering every possible surface in the area. "We've never properly broken in my library."

Crowley leans back to look at him with a smile that could only be described as devilish. "Well, we should fix that."

The moment is broken as Crowley's cell chimes. He shifts under Aziraphale's weight to retrieve it from his pocket. His face flashes disappointment as he looks at the screen. "But it seems another day, another time. They're here."

Aziraphale pouts his lower lip. Crowley nips at the protruding, pink flesh, causing his Angel to giggle, as he wiggles back. Once standing, he helps Crowley to his feet.

Crowley is out the door of the library first, sliding his sunglasses on to cover his eyes. The sun is exceptionally bright, and Crowley's eyes have been sensitive lately.

"Hey, we're in here." He calls to Andrew, who has been knocking on the door to the house.

"Was wondering where you got off to without a vehicle." Andrew makes it to the end of the porch as Aziraphale steps into the cold air. "You both okay? No more problems?”

Crowley turns, placing a hand on Aziraphale's back. "No ones threatened us again."

Alexis exits the car, obviously ready to get going, walking to where the three men stands. "We ready to buy a couple cars?"

Aziraphale watches Crowley's eyes go wide, and Andrew's mouth drop open. "Lex, he wasn't suppose to know yet."

"Woops. Sorry." She shrugs taking Aziraphale by the arm and pulling him towards Andrew’s vehicle. "Guess what? You're getting a car today too."

"I'm not surprised' Aziraphale laughs. "It's not as if Anthony doesn't do this sort of thing all the time."

"Wait." Crowley catches up to them at the car, sliding into the backseat beside Aziraphale. "You were expecting this?"

"Hmmmmmm." Aziraphale takes his hand. "Let's see, you said you'd buy me a car as a wedding gift. We are now getting married tomorrow." He squeezes the slender hand wrapped in his own. "Certainly, I didn't expect your cousins to be in on it this soon, but you my dear have proven over and over to be the master of grand gestures."

Alexis spins in her seat. "You're doing what tomorrow?"

_I was hoping she'd catch that._ "We are going to elope tomorrow." Aziraphale says proudly. "We've decided we can't wait."

Andrew turns the car around to start down the driveway. "What about October 28?"

Crowley beams at his Angel. "October 26 works just as well for me. How 'bout you dove?"

"Perfect." Aziraphale doesn't even try to hide his excitement. He wants this as much, if not more than Crowley.

"No ceremony?" Alexis asks, it's hard to decipher if she is disappointed or concerned.

"I don't need a ceremony. I just need him." Aziraphale says, enjoying the way Crowley melts at the words.

"We'll still have a reception and a party for everyone." Crowley assures her, watching Aziraphale with a look of awe.

"You need a witness, or are you going across the border?" Andrew asks, his black Nissan Skyline, pulling onto the dirt road.

"Over the border?" Aziraphale asks, Crowley chuckling at his confusion.

"You don't need a witness to marry in West Virginia, but you do in Ohio." Crowley turns his attention to Andrew. "Guess it all depends on if you guys really want to go."

"If you take one, you know you'll have to take everyone, or someone's gonna feel slighted." Alexis still sounds put out.

"What about this?" Andrew asks, excitedly. "Wait till Wednesday, that puts it on the 28th. Sal's got a friend at work who can officiate weddings, and we can get Tyn Rhos.”

Crowley's face drops at the idea. "I've kinda got my heart set on tomorrow."

Andrew watches them through the rearview mirror. "I understand that, but just hear me out." He checks for traffic before turning down 140 towards South Webster. "Aziraphale gets his church wedding, we all get the opportunity to be there and you'll have two days to buy decent rings and get all the paperwork in order.

Anathema has already given him the next few days off because of the previous day’s events, and Beez has enough employees that if Crowley needs time off they aren't put out. Aziraphale can’t see a reason not to wait, it would be the best option for everyone. “I think it sounds wonderful."

Terror flashes momentarily across Crowley's face, followed by desperation. Aziraphale squeezes his hand, speaking as calmly and sweetly as possible. "I love you, Anthony, trust me enough to know I'm not backing out on you. But our family deserves to be there." He nods to the siblings in the front seat. "We deserve to have them there."

The fear doesn't completely dissipate from sunlit eyes, nor does the tension from the angular jaw, but Aziraphale watches Crowley's shoulders relax a little as he relents. "Whatever you want, Angel."

Aziraphale leans to Crowley, whispering so softly that only the two of them can hear. "Thank you, please don't fret. I'm here beside you, always.

Crowley nods. "I told you, I'd wait for you forever, Angel. Two more days won't kill me."

Aziraphale's heart swells at how truly lucky he is. Even through all his worrying, Crowley trusts him.

Andrew turns into the lot of Hanes'. Sal and their father have an excellent rapport with the owner and sent word ahead for their cousins. Aziraphale waits as Crowley circles the vehicle to open his door. Hand in hand they walk towards the entrance, Andrew and Alexis trailing behind. Pushing through the glass doors, they are greeted by a younger man, mid-twenties, lanky and exceptionally tall, having at least five inches on Crowley's height.

"Can I help you find anything?" He offers his hand, causing Crowley to release Aziraphale's to shake.

"Yeah. My name's Anthony Crowley. My cousin called ahead, said I should speak with Josh." He removes his sunglasses, squinting under the show room lights.

The young man's brow briefly raises at the sight of Crowley's eyes, but quickly resets his features with a pleasant smile. "Well, it's a pleasure to meet you Mr. Crowley, I'm Josh."

Either missing or choosing to ignore Josh's initial reaction, Crowley steps back, placing a hand on Aziraphale's back. "This is my very soon to be husband, Aziraphale. We are hoping to purchase vehicles for each of us today."

"What's the price range for you gentlemen?" Josh claps his hands, obviously excited over the prospect of commission on two vehicles.

"Thinking $20,000 or less per vehicle." Crowley's face remaining neutral, bored. Aziraphale knows they could go higher than that, but he also recognizes the game Crowley is playing.

Josh makes a hissing noise, as he sucks air in through his teeth. "I can maybe go that low for something small and used.

Crowley glances at Aziraphale and his face softens. "Maybe for me." He gestures to Aziraphale. "But I'd like to see him driving something new."

Josh glances out to the lot, scratching his head. "We have the new Malibu's, base price $27,000. You’re not going to get anything cheaper brand new.”

"What features come with that price?" Crowley returns his glasses over his eyes as he and Aziraphale follow Josh onto the lot.

"We're gonna wait here." Andrew calls to them as he and Alexis take seats on the cushioned benches along the walls of the showroom. Crowley throws up his hand in acknowledgment.

Josh leads them to a line of seven cars, all identical except in color. "Four-cylinder, turbo charge engine, smart link for your phones, heated seats and power windows. On-star is available but requires a monthly subscription."

Aziraphale likes the look of a light blue model. Releasing Crowley's hand, he looks through the tinted window at white leather seats. He startles as Josh speaks directly beside him. "This one costs more." Aziraphale straightens up to face the man. "It's a 6 cylinder, with leather seats and tinted windows, so you're looking at $33,000."

Aziraphale feels Crowley's arm around his waist, and a gentle whisper in his ear. "Do you like it, Angel?"

Aziraphale shakes his head. "Oh no, I don't need it."

Crowley turns to Josh. "Give us a few minutes to walk around alone. If we have any questions or when we're ready, I'll come find you.

The salesman smiles and walks towards the building. Crowley turns his attention back to Aziraphale. "Let's pretend to look at the other models while we walk." His wink still obvious, even obscured by dark lenses.

"We could find something cheaper for me. Perhaps a used car would be best." Aziraphale starts. He has been studying and plans on taking the permit test this week. "I won't obtain my license for at least 90 days after I receive my permit."

"You'd look good behind the wheel of that." Crowley nods in the direction of sleek blue lines. "Maybe I'll buy one of the others."

Aziraphale laughs and Crowley's face lights up at the sound. "We're to be one of those couples, are we?' He leans his head against Crowley's arm.

"What couples?" Crowley tickles his side, causing Aziraphale to jump, earning the red-head a gentle tap on the arm.

Aziraphale looks up at him teasingly. "What's next? Joint Facebook accounts? ‘I belong to Aziraphale’ and ‘I'm Aziraphale’ shirts?"

Crowley shrugs. "I wouldn't be opposed to it."

This earns Crowley another laugh and a kiss on the cheek. "You're ridiculous, darling."

"Yup." He smirks as they pass the pick-ups.

"I'd assumed you'd want another truck." Aziraphale watches Crowley glance at the lifted vehicles.

"Nah, used the Dodge mostly for work. Won't need to haul anything now. I'll use the 4-wheeler for hunting."

They slowly circle back to where they started. Aziraphale squeezes his fiancé's arm. "So, which one will you choose?"

Crowley points at a jet black sedan. "Was thinking that one. Dark like my soul."

_Used and much cheaper than the one you’re buying me._ Aziraphale observes. “Oh, yes darling, quite the evil one, you."

"Yup." Crowley allows his hand to fall lower, grabbing the plush mound of Aziraphale's ass through his trousers. "Demonic, me."

The blond jumps at the contact. "Anthony! We're in public!" Aziraphale pretends to be affronted, secretly melting under Crowley's roguish grin.

"See, proves my point." Crowley purrs.

* * *

**The Next Morning**

Crowley winces, pulling the cellphone away from his ear as Beez screams at Newt on the other end. Eventually they return to the receiver addressing Crowley calmly. "Why don't you just take the rest of the week off. Enjoy married life until you start the new job."

"You sure?" He doesn't hide his astonishment. Beez has done a complete 180 over the past year. Of course, meeting Aziraphale can have that effect.

"Yeah, we're good here." They move their mouth from the phone. "IF SOME TOTAL IDIOT WOULD STOP WRECKING THE COMPUTER SYSTEMS ON THE CARS!!!!"

Crowley stifles his laughter, as Aziraphale steps into the living room, giving him a questioning look. "Thanks Beez, you're the best."

"Shut up." There's no real malice behind the words. "I don't do this stuff for you. Tell Zira I'll see him Wednesday. GO GET ON THE CASH REGISTER, YOU STUPID FUCKER, AND STOP TOUCHING THINGS!"

Crowley bursts out laughing as he hangs up.

"What's so funny?" Aziraphale lays his arms over Crowley's shoulders.

"Beez yelling at Newt." Crowley smiling, takes in the view. Aziraphale's powder pink sweater brings out the startling blue of his eyes. "You look beautiful."

Aziraphale blushes, laying his head against Crowley's shoulder. "Thank you."

Crowley embraces him, laying his head against golden down. "You okay?"

His Angel sags in his arms. They‘ve both had the same worry on their minds for nearly a 24 hours. That the only suspects in the truck fire seem to have a very convincing alibi, Andrew had told them over lunch the previous day.

Crowley barely slept that night. When he wasn't checking the locks and windows, he would lay and watch Aziraphale sleep. The few hours he did doze, he was plagued with visions of loss, of beautiful eyes closing forever.

Crowley would wake in a panic, curling himself as close to his Angel as humanly possible. Breathing in his scent, feeling the warmth of his skin, the rise and fall of his chest and remind himself, _Aziraphale is still here._

"I'm fine, dear, Andrew will handle it. Plus, I have you, my heroic prince, to protect me." Aziraphale lifts his head, placing soft lips to his lover's.

Crowley's eyes drift closed. Aziraphale's kiss is sweet, and the sensation of holding his Angel against his body helps to relieve his tension. "You give me too much credit, dove."

"Nonsense." Aziraphale eyes him excitedly. "Are you ready for an active day?'

Crowley nods, kneading his hands in the center of Aziraphale's back. "You talk to Anathema?"

Aziraphale pulls back slowly, and Crowley releases his hold. They both make their way to the front door. "She doesn't need me to return until Monday. Did you know she plans to put up notices that the library will be closed all day Wednesday, so that she can attend the wedding?"

"Awesome, all week off together. Beez is taking off too." Crowley smirks grabbing Aziraphale's coat from it's place by the door. "Speaking of, thought you didn't like people shortening your name. _Zira._ ”

"I don't." The blond slips his arms through the sleeves of the offered garment. "Honestly, would you be brave enough to argue with them?"

"Probably not." Crowley slings on his leather jacket. "But I'm pretty damn sure, the same rules don't apply to you that apply to everyone else."

Aziraphale waits as Crowley locks the door. "Precisely, and I intend to keep it that way."

Crowley clicks a button on his key fob, causing the lights on the black Malibu to flash. "Good point." He jogs around to open the passenger door.

"Really, dearest, I don't need help getting in and out of this vehicle like I did the truck." Aziraphale smiles as he settles onto black vinyl seats.

"Yeah, I know, but I like doing this anyway." He makes sure Aziraphale is settled, before shutting the door and speed walking to the driver’s side. Crowley slides into his seat and presses the ignition. "Besides, what sort of heroic prince would I be if I didn't?'

"Ah, so you're accepting the title?" Aziraphale gives him a victory wiggle, and smug grin.

Crowley absolutely loves it when he wiggles. "Only because you're the one who gave it to me."

Aziraphale's smile spreads fully across his face. "As you wish." He murmurs softly.

"What?' Crowley juts his lips and scrunches his nose.

"That's who you act like, Westley." Crowley glances to his right, blue eyes stare at him amused.

"Who the hell is Westley?" Crowley refocuses his eyes on the road ahead.

If he had still been looking, he would have seen Aziraphale's mouth gaping in shock. "Do you mean to tell me, you've never seen the **The Princess Bride**?"

Crowley shakes his head. "Can't say I have."

"Well then I know our plans are for this evening." He takes Crowley's hand, and does another excited wiggle.

Crowley nods, twining his fingers with Aziraphale's. They continue to Jackson in contented silence. The only sound, Crowley's playlist crooning through the cars Bluetooth system.

Once in the BMV lot, they exit the vehicle. Crowley holds the door to the testing center. "Good luck, Angel." He kisses Aziraphale on the cheek. "I'll get the tags and meet you at the car."

Aziraphale nods nervously and walks inside. Crowley turns to his right, the office for titles and tags is two doors down. Luckily once inside, there is no line and Crowley is able to walk directly to the counter.

The walls are blindingly white, a row of chairs to Crowley's left, a long counter stretches the entirety of the space before him, ending at a swinging waist high door to the far right. Behind the door is a desk with a sign reading **Titles and Taxes** and a thicker woman with sandy blonde hair. He visits here first.

On his far left is a camera and a chair for photos, manned by an older woman with a buzz cut. Once he has paid the taxes and received the titles, Crowley turns to the center of the counter. Here he is greeted (if you could call it that) by a young woman with dark hair, sitting behind a computer.

"Can I help you?" She seems annoyed by his presence.

"Yeah, I need tags for two new vehicles."

They go through the standard back and forth of make, model, insurance information, until she comes to the final question.

"Would you like standard tags or custom?"

An idea occurs to Crowley, and he can't help himself. "Custom." He chuckles.

* * *

Aziraphale is elated leaving the exam. Not only did he pass but did so with a perfect score. Stepping outside, he sees Crowley crouched at the rear of the vehicle attaching the new plate.

"I passed!" He practically bounces with excitement. "Just need to run next door to have my photo taken."

Crowley stands, turning to face him. "Great Angel." He's smiling, the day is overcast and Crowley has forgone the sunglasses, eyes shining. "You can drive us to the courthouse."

"Oh, that will be delightful...…" He stops mid-sentence as his eyes catch sight of the plates. "Good Lord, Anthony, why?"

Crowley looks at the plate, the word **DEMON** emblazoned in large black letters. "I got yours custom too." Reaching into the passenger seat he produces another metal plate reading **ANGEL**.

"It's a set." Crowley beams, proudly.

"You're hardly a demon, Anthony." Aziraphale shakes his head.

"Am so." He takes the plates from Aziraphale's hands and tosses them into the back seat of the car. "Least I am compared to you."

Aziraphale's amusement and disbelief must show because Crowley continues. "Think about it. You're bright, compassionate and absolutely lovely. Angel in name and at the core of your very soul." He slides his index figure under Aziraphale's chin. "I wear black, I'm moody, reserved about who I show compassion to, and nowhere near as smart as you. We're like yin and yang." He gestures between the two of them. "Angel and demon."

Aziraphale stares, slack jawed, attempting to grasp how someone so good, could have such a skewed interpretation of himself. Then it hits him, as long as he's known Crowley he had never picked up on it until now. The dark clothes, the serious demeanor around strangers. _He wants to be seen as someone rough_.

Aziraphale relents. "I'm going to go finish this process." He waves his permit scores. "Then we will get the marriage license and rings."

* * *

**8PM That Night**

Crowley finishes laying out a blanket and pillows on the living room floor. "You need any help, Angel?'

"No dear, I'll just need to make two trips." Aziraphale exits the kitchen carrying a pizza. "Do you want beer or soda?"

"I'll get it. You set up the movie." Crowley rushes past him through the doorway.

"Bring me a beer please." Aziraphale calls, setting the pizza on the blanket and picking up the remote.

"Can do." Crowley reaches into the fridge for two dark bottles, smiling as he replays the day’s events in his mind. Aziraphale had done decent for his first time driving. Would have done better if he hadn't been nervous. He hit the brakes so hard a few times, Crowley was afraid he might have whiplash.

Their rings are beautiful, black tungsten with a gold snake design around the band for Crowley, gold inlaid with sapphires for Aziraphale, matching the angel wing engagement ring perfectly. Both currently locked alongside the marriage license in the bedroom safe.

Crowley reenters the living room, two glass bottles in hand. Aziraphale is leaning back against the pillows, plate full on his lap, vibrating with excitement. "Ready, Anthony?"

Crowley wonders if he looks as besotted as he feels. He hands one of the bottles to Aziraphale and snuggles beside him on the floor. "Ready."

Crowley isn't sure what he'll think of the movie. From the title, he assumes he is getting pulled into a cheesy romance. (Not that he minds cheesy romance if he’s watching wrapped around his Angel.) Instead, he finds himself watching something utterly ridiculous, in the best possible ways. They only pause it once for Crowley to get the pizza box and plates out of the way, when they finished eating, and to flick off the lights.

Less than two hours later, as the credits scroll up the television screen, Crowley finds himself with a sleeping angel on his chest. Pulling the blanket from the couch, he covers himself and Aziraphale.

"I love you." He whispers into flaxen curls before himself drifting off to sleep.

* * *

**Richmond Dale, Ohio/30 Minutes from Oak Hill**

Carmine Zuigiber runs manicured nails through her thick red hair with one hand, the other holds her phone.

"I don't think it will be much of an issue." She assures the person on the other end of the line.

She smiles at their response. "Well, he certainly didn't respond the way I'd hoped, but eventually they always do.”

Carmine laughs, it's deep and throaty. "Yes, I start on the second, I should see him again there."

She's always gotten what she's after, one way or another, and the slender man with yellow eyes seems like a fun target.

She catches her reflection in her living room mirror. "Yep, I'll keep you updated. Talk soon."

She looks over her image one final time. The smile that spreads across her face as she leaves out her door can only be described as devious. It's a game to her, when she finds a target, she expects nothing less than for them to fall over themselves to please her. The cause of many fights, she gets who she's after, when she's after them, or else. It's a game, one she plays well and one she always wins.

One way or another.


	8. Like Jesus Does

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale attempts something new, and while enjoying it, gets rather messy. Andrew has some more questions for asshole pastor, and our boys get their wedding ❤️💚

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this chapter is an Eric Church song

**Tuesday Morning**

Aziraphale wakes to slender fingers combing through his hair, Crowley watching him tenderly. "Morning, dove." The corners of his eyes crinkle as a blinding smile spreads across his face. "Happy wedding eve."

Aziraphale nuzzles his face into Crowley's chest, muffling his giggle. He always has the most interesting way of putting titles to events.

"Happy wedding eve, dearest." Pulling himself up further on Crowley's chest. "Is there anything that needs to be done today?"

"Nope." Crowley winds an arm around Aziraphale's back, holding him tightly. "The only thing we didn't get were tuxes, and there's no time to order those." His brow tenses. "You're okay with that. Right?"

"Perfectly." He rests his chin on Crowley's strong chest. There are deep circles under golden eyes, and Aziraphale can't help but fret over how pale and gaunt his fiancé looks. "Have you been sleeping at all?"

Crowley's expression softens all the more. He cups the back of soft curls and pulls his Angel gently into a kiss. Aziraphale melts into the sensations of chapped red lips, and the hard body beneath his. After several moments they separate, and Aziraphale nearly forgets he had asked a question at all. That is until he looks again at Crowley's sweet, exhausted face. "You need to take better care of yourself."

Crowley kisses him on the nose. "I need to take care of you first."

"How exactly do you think you're tending to me, by making yourself sick with exhaustion?" Aziraphale has only ever seen Crowley this pale once before, and the poor man had been suffering from strep.

"I'm fine." Crowley assures him.

_Ever the hero_. Aziraphale shakes his head. “You realize I'll be on my own for four weeks very soon. You may as well let yourself get a proper night’s sleep while you're here."

Sal had told them both about the dorms at the Corrections Training Academy and it being recommended all students to stay who live more than an hour away.

"No, you won't. I'll drive home every night." Crowley's embrace tightens.

"Anthony." Aziraphale scolds, although he would like nothing more than for Crowley to do just that. "You're not going to put yourself through eight hours of training and make a four hour round trip every day."

"The hell I won't." Crowley watches wide eyed and determined. "I'm not leaving you on your own out here every night. Even without the shit we have going on, I'd constantly worry."

Aziraphale loves Crowley’s protective streak, it makes him feel important. Cherished.

"We'll discuss this more later." Crowley opens his mouth to argue, and Aziraphale covers his lips with a finger.

He almost asks what Crowley will do if he gets placed on third shift but decides against it. _We'll cross that bridge when we get there._ "Will you at least catch up on your rest today? Get a nap in?"

"Only if you spend the time in bed with me." Crowley kisses the plump finger, raising his eyebrows. "Start the honeymoon early?"

"Oh, I think I'd like that." Aziraphale replaces the finger with his mouth. Crowley's so brave, always so brave, and Aziraphale is feeling brave today as well. "I think it best if we move to the bedroom. I can't imagine it's been comfortable for you on the floor.”

Crowley scrunches his nose and shrugs. "S'not that bad. But I do feel stiff."

Aziraphale stands, offering his hand to Crowley from the floor. "Well then, let's see if I can help you relax."

"Undress, love." Aziraphale instructs, releasing Crowley's hand in order to remove what little clothing he’d slept in. He’s sore from having lain on the floor, and he had another body as a cushion. He can't imagine how Crowley must feel.

Divested of clothing, Aziraphale places himself across the bed, head resting on the pillows. Crowley eyes him hungrily, as he crawls on hands and knees to hover above. Crowley's lean muscles ripple with the movement, sending shivers through Aziraphale, reminding him of a jungle cat ready to consume.

Aziraphale thinks instead he'll do the consuming.

"How do you want me, Angel?" Crowley holds himself up, not yet touching. Waiting, as always, for what Aziraphale needs.

He raises his hand to cup Crowley's soft skin and sharp cheekbone. Crowley’s face is sunken, thinner than usual and Aziraphale is overcome with a need to take care of him, protect him.

"On your back." Aziraphale utters softly, fingers gliding tenderly through strands of red wine silk.

Wide-eyed and breathing deeply, Crowley nods and begins to roll. Aziraphale moves with him, pressing their bodies together, hand never leaving Crowley's hair.

"I'm going to try something." Aziraphale keeps his voice steady, but his heart is nearly beating out of his chest. They are nose to nose, mouths only inches apart. "Bear with me and be patient."

"Always." There could be no denying the adoration in Crowley's eyes, or the reverence in his voice.

Aziraphale presses their lips together, one of Crowley's hands caressing the curls at the nape of his Angel's neck, the other splayed open over the small of his back.

_He's mine. Mine forever._ Aziraphale pushes his tongue past Crowley's lips, and moans as he begins to suck it, sliding his own deep into his Angel's mouth. Bodies pushed together, he can feel the both of them growing hard. The friction driving Aziraphale onward as he ruts against Crowley's lean tight body, and long, delicious shaft.

Crowley's head falls back into the pillows, breaking the kiss. Aziraphale's mouth makes a trail along Crowley's jaw, following the constellations of freckles over his jugular, until reaching the juncture of collarbone and throat. Here Aziraphale's kisses become less gentle, as he clamps down and sucks. Crowley's body jerks beneath him, and a broken "A-angel." escapes from his lips.

Smiling against the purple mark he's left on ivory skin, Aziraphale continues downward. He feels his lover tense, and hears him whimper, as the blond places one red nipple in his mouth, rubbing the other between his index finger and thumb. Crowley's hand leaves Aziraphale's hair, instead grasping the sheets.

Pulling his mouth away from the sensitive mound of flesh, Aziraphale stares into wide serpentine eyes. "I won't break." And with that, takes Crowley's hand, returning it to platinum curls.

"I might." Crowley pants above him, as Aziraphale's tongue leaves a slick pathway down his stomach, past his navel, stopping at the base of Crowley's cock.

Aziraphale moves his face around it, studying it. He wants to do this, wants it so very much. But he’s afraid he’ll mess it up.

Crowley picks up on his hesitation, as it dawns on him what Aziraphale’s planning. “Hey, Angel, you don’t have...” he starts to protest, suddenly cut off by soft pink lips encircling his dick.

“Gah!” Aziraphale hears Crowley exclaim as he smiles around the mouthful, wrapping his hand around Crowley’s base. He had done some reading on how to do this properly, knowing he isn’t capable of the deep throating technique Crowley is so lovely at performing. Luckily this is getting him the reaction he wants. Crowley moans, and writhes, fingers wound in Aziraphale’s hair.

Aziraphale moves his hand in sync with his mouth, rubbing his tongue along Crowley’s shaft. With his free hand he cups and gently massages his lovers ever tightening balls.

Aziraphale allows a hint of teeth to scrape Crowley’s tip, as he put his head back, before plunging down as far as he can go without gagging. His fist is wet and slick from saliva, and he hears Crowley moaning his name above him.

He is relieved to realize that he’s enjoying this as much as Crowley. It isn’t forced, or painful, and the noises he’s responsible for causing his affianced to make are exquisite.

“Azir.....Angel....O-oh God... I’m going to.” Crowley can’t seem to decide where he wants his hands, as he grasps at Aziraphale’s hair, then shoulders, then sheets, muscles tense as he pulls himself further into the mattress, fighting to keep from bucking into his Angel’s mouth.

Aziraphale hums in approval, hallowing out his cheeks, and sucking hard, as he slides his lips, tongue and hand, faster and faster.

Crowley accidentally loses himself as he comes, screaming Aziraphale’s name, nails biting into pink flesh, hips thrusting forward.

Aziraphale, taken by surprise, gags briefly, causing his eyes to tear. He thought he would be prepared for the salty spray entering his mouth. It came with such force, he was able to swallow some, but most has left a mess of his face, hand and Crowley’s thigh.

Aziraphale sets back, eyes watering and coughing. Surprisingly other than a mess, the experience is something he likes, and he knows he can make it better with practice.

Feeling quite pleased with himself, he’s startled to see Crowley watching him, face contorted in fear. He’s shaking as he reaches for Aziraphale’s hand.

“M’sorry, Angel, lost myself. I shouldn’t have.” He wipes the dampness from Aziraphale’s eyes and face using his t-shirt. His Adam’s apple prominent, as he seems to be having difficulty swallowing. “Are you okay?”

“Oh, dear heart I’m fine.” Aziraphale finishes wiping them both clean with the shirt. “I actually, very much enjoyed myself.” Throwing the wadded shirt in the floor. “Although I seem to be much messier than you at this.” He giggles and Crowley relaxes a little.

“So I didn’t hurt you?”

“Goodness, no.” Aziraphale smiles, curling himself around Crowley. “We both got overzealous, and I gagged a little. You’re rather large darling.” Tilting his head upward, he kisses Crowley on the chin. “I promise you, I found it much more satisfying than I thought I would.”

“Yeah?” Crowley’s mouth presses to Aziraphale’s forehead.

“Yes.” Wrapping his arms around Crowley’s torso, Aziraphale snuggles into red chest hair. “Now I expect you to sleep for the next several hours to repay me for all my hard work.”

“When we wake, can I take care of you.” Crowley’s voice is raspy.

“Oh, yes, please. I’d love that.”

* * *

**Tuesday Afternoon 1:15PM**

Andrew parks his cruiser outside the house of Barney Shoemaker, for the second time this week. Alibi or not, Andrew feels it’s only sensible to speak with the man in person, and perhaps get some information on who might be involved.

He catches movement in the front window, as he steps onto the porch. The front door clicks and opens before he has a chance to knock.

“Can I help you?” Drawls a plump woman, early 40s, dark hair and eyes. Her accent thicker than anyone in Oak Hill’s or even West Virginia. Andrew recognizes it as Tennessean, from the many trips him and Lisa had made to Pigeon Forge before having the baby.

“Yes ma’am. I was hoping to speak with Barney or Jessica Shoemaker.” He refrains from opening the screen door, waiting for her to remove the barrier.

Pushing the door open, she waves him in. “Come in, Barney’s in the living room.” She offers her hand. “I’m Jessica, Joe said you stopped by on Sunday.”

“I did.” The Shoemaker home is large, Andrew enters a foyer, ahead is a staircase, to the left a dining room. Jessica directs him to the right, into a sitting area with gray, plush carpet, and a long gray leather couch sitting in front of a large window looking out onto the porch. Here is where Barney sets, remote in hand, facing a flat screen television perched above a slate stone fireplace. Upon seeing the officer, the pastor stands.

“How can I help you today, young man?” Barney addresses him with mock enthusiasm.

Andrew replies as politely as he can muster. “Sorry to bother you, sir. Can you verify your whereabouts Saturday, October 24?”

“I think that’s already been verified. I was informed you’d contacted the venue of the retreat, while we were still there.” Jessica voices as she moves around to stand beside her husband.

Andrew holds up his hands in concession. “You’re absolutely right, sorry. It has also been verified that the Vanderbilt’s were in attendance.”

“They were.” Barney eyes him suspiciously.

Andrew is finally to the actual reason for his visit. “Could I get you to print out a list of all who were present at your church, Sunday morning October 18, as well as a list of who from your congregation was present at the retreat.”

“We don’t keep tabs on our parishioners.” Barney says coldly, and Andrew knows it’s a lie. Places like Freedom Baptist are always quick to check up on people who miss services. “What’s all this about anyway.”

“Someone set fire to the vehicle of Anthony Crowley after painting a hateful message across the cab of his vehicle.” Andrews attempts at keeping his voice professional faulter. He’s pissed, and it shows.

Barney shakes his head, also angry. “I don’t know what that should do with me, or any of my church family.”

Andrew takes a steadying breath. “Because the message painted was ‘burn in Hell’ and you’re the only person I know of to say something so cruel to him or his fiancé.”

The pastor’s round face flushes a deep red. “If you don’t have a warrant, get out.”

“Alright.” Andrew tips his hat and walks himself towards the door. He stops before exiting the living room, turning to address the couple once more. “Their wedding is tomorrow, I expect there to be no trouble. If there is, I hate to think what might happen to those causing it.”

Barney’s mouth falls open, as he pursues Andrew to the door. “Is that a threat?”

Andrew stops halfway out the front door. “No, sir, just a warning.” He smiles as he closes the door behind him.

* * *

**Wednesday October 28, 11:50AM**

“Thank you so much for doing this.” Sal greets the pretty woman as she enters the sanctuary. Tricia Hatfield is short, with long brown hair, and rich brown eyes. They are coworkers at ACF, Tricia the unit secretary in Sal’s dorm.

“Not a problem. We start at 12:30, right?” She glances around at the venue.

Sal follows her gaze, the pews are full. Aunts, uncles, and cousins from the immediate area in attendance. Anathema, Newt, Beez, Jake and Jordan set together in the third pew to the left. Tracy seated directly in front of them, Shadwell at her side. Both are turned in their seats, Tracy to chat with the group behind her, Shadwell looking nervously about the room.

“Come with me.” Sal leads Tricia to the offices behind the sanctuary. “I’ll introduce you to the grooms.”

At the back of the sanctuary is a doorway, on the other side a short hallway. Sal stops beside the second door on the right. Laughter carries into the hallway from the other side.

They tap on the wooden door. “You boys decent?”

“Shut up and come in.” Crowley calls back. Sal smiles and gestures for Tricia to follow.

Crowley sits in a wooden chair facing an old vanity. He’s wearing black slacks, black snakeskin boots, a thin black tie, and a dark gray dress shirt that seems to shimmer when caught in the light. He’s left his sunglasses at home, his yellow eyes watching the two newcomers through the mirror’s reflection.

Aziraphale stands behind him, attempting to make his almost husband’s hair behave. He’s dressed in beige trousers, brown brogues, powder blue dress shirt, and a blue and gray tartan bowtie.

Both men exude giddiness, as one combs through thick red hair. “This is the best I’m going to get it. Please refrain from messing it up again.”

“I don’t even realize I’m doing it.” Crowley explains. “I start getting excited, and my hands find their way up there.”

“Oh, so much the same as mine do.” Aziraphale winks, giving Crowley’s hair a light tug.

Sal rolls their eyes and point to their friend. “So this is Tricia.”

Aziraphale turns and clasps the petite woman’s hands between his own. “Thank you so much for doing this on such short notice.” Lifting his right hand from hers he touches his chest as Crowley moves to stand beside him. “I’m Aziraphale, this is Anthony.” He turns his face to look at Crowley’s.

“Sal says you wrote your own vows. Correct?” Tricia waits as both men nod. “Good. I’m letting the two of you carry the ceremony. I’m just here so it’s official.”

“No problem.” Crowley takes Aziraphale’s hand.

“Welp, I’m going to take a seat out front.” Sal hugs both their cousins, before returning to the sanctuary and taking a seat beside their sons.

* * *

_It’s happening, it’s really fucking happening!_ Crowley rejoices internally as he walks arm in arm with the love of his life. They had agreed to walk the aisle together as equals, and Crowley’s beyond proud to have his Angel by his side. God Herself wouldn’t be able to wipe the smile from his face.

Aziraphale’s hand grips Crowley’s bicep, similar to how they had walked across their property, that first night over a year ago. They’ve come so far together, and Crowley knows how unbelievably lucky he is to be standing in this place, beside golden haired perfection.

He pays little attention to the smiles and tears of his family and friends. He concentrates to fight back the overwhelming flood the threatens to spring from his own eyes.

Reaching the altar, Crowley turns to face Aziraphale taking each of his Angel’s hands in his own.

Tricia smiles. “We gather here today to witness the union of Anthony James Crowley and Aziraphale Zachariah Fell. I have been informed that they have prepared their own vows.” She indicates for them to proceed.

Aziraphale is beaming, eyes like the sky, smile like the sun. He takes Crowley‘s breath away, the same way he had the first afternoon they met in his driveway. Only now he isn’t bruised and tired, his skin is clear and vibrant and he glows more beautifully than any star in heaven, or wonder on the earth.

Crowley stares transfixed as his Angel begins to speak. “Anthony, my love, I can think of no words worthy enough to tell you how I feel. The closest I can come, my dear, is to quote from the book of Ruth, and although you don’t take as much stock in the Scriptures as I, there is no better way to let you know all that you have given me.” He kisses Crowley’s hand before continuing.

“Ask me not to leave your side or return from following after you. For wherever you go, I will go, and wherever you live, I will live. Your people will be my people, and your God my God. Wherever you die, I will also die, and there I will be buried. May the Lord do this to me, and more also, if anything but death part you and me.”

Aziraphale releases one of his hands to wipe a stray tear from Crowley’s eye. “My dear I was lost when I found you. I was alone with my fear and pain. There was no one who loved me, nothing to give my life meaning.”

Crowley can’t control the flood that breaks, as he gently sobs, amazed that this beautiful creature could look at him with so much reverence. Aziraphale cups his face, clasping more firmly the hand he still holds.

“You gave me hope. You gave me family. I now have more love than I could have ever dreamt was possible. I know you call me Angel, but from where I stand that title seems much more fitting of you.”

Crowley shakes his head, he doesn’t deserve such praise from someone so wonderful.

Aziraphale steadies his head, gently forcing Crowley to look him in the eyes. “I swear to love you through this life and the next. To love you through a million lifetimes if I’m permitted. You’re the only one I’ve ever truly loved, and the only one I’ll ever love. My life began with you, and when you are no more, my life will end with you as well.” Aziraphale pulls the gold and black band from his pocket.

Crowley can’t control the way his body trembles as the band slips on his finger. He’s never been this happy. Never known he could love and be loved like this.

“Shit, Angel.” Shaking his head. “Sorry, sorry. Didn’t mean to say that.” The guests laugh and Aziraphale smiles at him sweetly. “I just don’t know how to follow that.” This earns him another round of laughter.

Crowley clears his throat, taking several steadying breaths to compose himself. “My vows are a quote too, but I’m not as smart as you Aziraphale. See, there’s this Eric Church song, and it always makes me think of you.”

Crowley’s terrified. _This isn’t good enough, nothing about me will ever be good enough_. But those sea blue eyes look at him like he’s hung the stars, and he knows Aziraphale believes he is enough.

“I’m a long-gone Waylon song on vinyl. I’m a back-row sinner at a tent revival. But you believe in me like you believe your Bible and love me like Jesus does.

I’m a lead foot leaning on a souped-up Chevy. I’m a good ol’ boy drinking whiskey and rye on the levee. But you carry me when my sins make me heavy. And love me like Jesus does.

All the crazy in my dreams, both my broken wings. Every single piece of everything I am. Yeah you know the man I ain’t, you forgive me when I can’t. The devil, man, no he don’t stand a chance. Cause you love me like Jesus does.

I always thought you’d give up on me one day. Wash your hands of me, leave me staring down some runway. But I thank God each night and twice on Sunday. That you love me like Jesus does.

Yeah you know the man I ain’t, you forgive me when I can’t. That devil, man, no he don’t stand a chance. You love me like Jesus does.” Crowley slides the gold and sapphire ring onto a trembling soft finger.

“Oh, Anthony.” Aziraphale says so softly and with so much emotion. “I love you.”

Crowley shift awkwardly from foot to foot. “I know I’m not great with words Aziraphale, but I swear I’ll love you forever. I’ll protect you always. You taught me how to love. Really love. Don’t ever leave me, Angel. I need you.”

“Never darling.” Aziraphale leans forward to kiss him, tears mingling, freely streaming down both men’s faces.

“It seems you gentlemen have jumped ahead to the next part without me.” Tricia jokes, and Crowley feels Aziraphale’s smile against his lips.

“Family and friends!” She continues, for the whole room to hear. “May I introduce you to Anthony and Aziraphale Crowley!”

Crowley can hear the applause, the whistles and someone that sounds like Bri announce “Party at the Crowley’s!”

But right now, and for several moments more, he can do nothing but hold his husband and kiss him senseless.


	9. The Ones That Like Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The wedding reception involving dancing and getting dirty.
> 
> And we find out that some people we didn’t currently trust might just be allies. They just aren’t brave enough to stand in the open.....yet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this chapter is a Brantley Gilbert song. The song Crowley sings to Aziraphale is called Tennessee Whiskey originally by George Jones and then re-released by Chris Stapleton

**2:30pm, Crowley Residence**

“Still didn’t get it all.” Crowley grumbles, brushing heart shaped confetti from his clothes, as he helps Aziraphale from the car.

Earlier, upon exiting the church, a paper banner had adorn the back of their vehicle, and the confetti covered the interior. “How’d they even get the car unlocked?”

“Haven’t the slightest.” Aziraphale bats his eyes innocently. Alexis had devised the idea to slow them getting home and it had worked. Crowley’d spent the last forty-five minutes at the car wash vacuuming up the pastel infestation.

Music carries from the back lawn, as Crowley‘s aunt Nat steps around to greet them. “Congratulations kids!” Smiling she hugs her nephew before squeezing Aziraphale’s arm. “Now go get changed. Everyone’s waiting for you.”

“We may be a moment.” Crowley cocks his head towards Aziraphale, mouth quirked in a lopsided grin.

“Well that’s wonderful, but I don’t need to be told anymore.” She shakes her head as if to remove an unwanted image. “I’ll keep the children out of the house. Close the blinds.”

Aziraphale feels the blush growing on his face. “Oh, he was only joking.”

“Yup, sure.” Crowley takes Aziraphale’s hand and leads him to the house. “Just a joke. C’mon Angel.”

Aziraphale gives the woman an apologetic look, as he allows himself to be bustled inside. Once in the bedroom Crowley closes the blinds, then proceeds to shut and lock the door.

“Do you really not want to?” Crowley watches Aziraphale undress, with a hint of disappointment on his face.

“I think it would be horribly rude while we have guests. Best if we wait until later.” Aziraphale down to his boxers, begins rifling through the closet.

“Here.” Crowley steps beside him. “Ya don’t wanna wear something too nice. Grab something warm that ya don’t care to get dirty.”

Aziraphale remembers the jeans and black hoodie stuffed into the very back. “Like this?”

“Yeah, those’ll be perfect.” Crowley tilts his head. “Isn’t that what you wore here your first day?”

“Very same outfit, yes. Haven’t worn it since.” He lifts the jeans, eyeing them apprehensively. “Hope these still fit. I’ve put on some weight since last year.”

Not a lot, but having to no longer abide by someone else’s ideals of what’s attractive, Aziraphale fears he’s let himself go. It doesn’t help that Crowley indulges his every whim without complaint.

“Bull.” His husband responds. “I don’t see it.” Crowley runs his hands down Aziraphale’s sides to his hips, squeezing and pulling him closer. “All I see is a whole lotta sexy.”

Aziraphale slides his fingers in Crowley’s hair. “Love really is blind, it seems.”

“Shuddup.” Crowley kisses him on the nose, swatting gently at his plump ass. “Now get dressed we got a party to get to.”

They both change quickly, Aziraphale notices the jeans are a bit snug, but nothing he can’t live with. They head through the living room and kitchen to the back. Crowley grabs the keys to the shed from the hook by the door, before holding it open for Aziraphale.

“Why do you need those?” He watches his husband playfully, stepping outside.

“All part of the evening’s fun.” Crowley exits behind him.

The lawn is packed. It appears someone has hired a DJ, with a karaoke machine. Jake currently belting out a Chris Stapleton song, and not doing the best at it. Aziraphale never paid much mind to country music before, but he has to confess now, some of it is rather good. Chris Stapleton for one has a voice that many cannot match. An obvious reason why Jake is not living up to the original artist. He perhaps should’ve chosen an artist with a less iconic voice.

Couples were embracing on the grass in front of the makeshift stage. Aziraphale is about to ask Crowley if he would like to dance when the music is abruptly cut off. Jake looks confused and a bit put out, as Alexis takes the microphone from him. She points to the newlyweds still standing on the concrete porch.

“Friends and family! Aziraphale and Anthony Crowley!”

Cheers just like in the church erupt throughout the lawn. Aziraphale may not have been born with supernatural powers, but there is no denying the love he feels all around him.

Crowley takes his hand, lifting it to his lips. “Wanna dance, Angel?”

“I’d love to.” Aziraphale allows his husband to lead him down the steps and into the crowd.

The area of grass being used as a dance floor is 20 feet to the left of the porch. A fire is lit to the far right of the property, children readying sticks for hotdogs and marshmallows. Four and three wheel ATVs line near the row of pines along with a few dirt bikes. A table set with raw hotdogs, chips, graham crackers and chocolate bars is several feet from the bonfire. In the center of the table, a three-tier cake with red and white decorative roses, displays beautifully. At the top two groom figurines, one in black, one in white. Coolers are set at each end of the table full of ice, beer, pop and water.

Crowley’s hands find their home on Aziraphale’s waist, as Aziraphale’s wrap around the back of his husband’s neck. Another Chris Stapleton song begins to croon from the speakers, as the two lovers begin to sway.

Crowley leans forward to lay a feather soft kiss to Aziraphale’s lips, humming to the music. Pulling back the humming becomes words as he sings along to the song.

No, not just sing along. Sing to Aziraphale.

“You’re as smooth as Tennessee whiskey. You’re as sweet as strawberry wine. You’re as warm as a glass of brandy. And honey, I stay stoned on your love all the time.”

Crowley’s lips press to his Angel’s forehead.

“I’ve looked for love in all the same old places. Found the bottom of the bottle always dry. But when you poured out your heart, I didn’t waste it. Because there’s nothing like your love to get me high.”

Crowley hits the high note exaggeratedly causing Aziraphale to giggle as his head drifts to his husband’s shoulder. Crowley’s arms fully encircle his back, holding tight as he finishes the song, lips against soft curls.

“You’re as smooth, as Tennessee whiskey. You’re as sweet as strawberry wine. You’re as warm as a glass of brandy. And honey, I stay stoned on your love all the time.”

Crowley’s warm breath against the blond curls, and deep voice, sending chills down Aziraphale’s spine. The words seeping into his blood are more intoxicating than any drink mentioned.

Aziraphale retracts his former thought of no singer comparing to the artist. The words to that song have never sounded as good as they do from Crowley’s lips, and Aziraphale can do nothing but hold himself even closer to the man he love’s strong body. Turning his head upward, Aziraphale leaves a kiss against the soft freckled skin of Crowley’s neck.

He searches for words that could explain how he feels. All his knowledge of the English language, and he realizes in this moment how it truly lacks the ability to describe certain emotions.

Crowley smells like wind and pine, his dark gray sweatshirt, soft under Aziraphale’s cheek. It feels like a dream, as they hold one another through two more slow songs, before the tempo picks up and they move out of the way.

“Would ya look at that?” Crowley mumbles, causing Aziraphale to look in the direction of his gaze. “Good for him.”

Sal and Jake are moving apart as well, him smiling like an idiot, their smile subdued, but faintly present.

“He’s been trying for them since high school.” Crowley keeps his voice low.

“Really?” Aziraphale feels the smile creeping across his own face. “What’s held them back?”

“His politics, some. But really it’s a long story. Let’s just say, they were both a lot different back then.” Crowley shrugs.

Alexis’ voice booms from the microphone again. “If the newlyweds wouldn’t mind, I believe it’s time for cake.”

“How did we get such a beautiful cake on short notice?” Aziraphale looks at his husband.

“Bri made it. She’s good at that stuff.” Crowley says matter-of-factly. “Shall we, Angel?”

“Lead the way, husband, mine.”

* * *

There’s never been a time when Crowley hasn’t found Aziraphale stunning, but this might be his absolute cutest moment. Eyes wide, face red, and cake smashed all around his mouth and cheeks. And maybe a little in his hair. Crowley smiles triumphantly at him.

That is until his Angel’s face drops, and his lip pouts out. “Really, Anthony?”

Aziraphale sounds so sad, so put out, Crowley’s heart twists and he instinctively steps forward with a napkin to clean Aziraphale’s face.

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” He speaks quickly, he always does when he’s nervous. “Supposed to be a joke. Sorry, sorry, just trying to be funny.”

As Crowley gently wipes away the mess, he has a moment of pause as Aziraphale’s features shift. No longer forlorn, his mouth lifts into a crooked smile, and blue eyes glint with mischief.

“Oh it was, darling.” Aziraphale takes hold of Crowley’s hand still wiping his face. “But this is funnier.”

Before Crowley has time to move, there is icing in his nose, on his chin, and dripping down the front of his shirt. Shit _,_ there might be some in his ear. Aziraphale didn’t even try smashing it against his mouth, but used his hand in a sweeping motion. As if attempting finger paints on a canvas much larger than Crowley‘s face.

“Bastard.” Crowley growls, teasingly, smiling at the look of pure joy on his Aziraphale’s face.

“C’mere, Angel.” Crowley says, reaching out. “Give your husband a big, sloppy kiss.”

Aziraphale squeals as Crowley takes his arms.

“Oh, no, no, handsome.” Crowley purrs. “You’re not getting out of this.”

“Unhand me you fiend!” The blond giggles, playfully pushing against Crowley’s chest.

“Never, dove. You’re stuck with me now.” And Crowley feels Aziraphale stop resisting, allowing himself to be pulled close.

“Thank God.” The two words a gentle breeze against Crowley’s lips seconds before Aziraphale’s tongue is in his mouth.

Crowley is startled, but only for a heartbeat. Aziraphale’s tongue is searching, overtaking, and the redhead forgets anyone else exists. Slender arms encasing a plump waist, as he allows his own tongue to slide against and wrap around his husband’s.

Crowley’s brow furrows silent protest when Aziraphale pulls away from the kiss. When he opens his eyes, shining sapphire orbs stare from within a soft flushed face.

“Delicious.” The way Aziraphale looks at him has Crowley fighting the urge to pick him up bridal style, carry him into the house, and throw him onto their bed.

_Oh the things I’ll do for him tonight, if he’ll let me._

Crowley’s aunt Leila hands him a dish towel, which he uses to clean up Aziraphale, then himself.

The crowd disperses to do their own things, some dancing, some eating, and Crowley pulls the keys from his sweatshirt pocket. “Ya wanna get dirty, Angel?”

Aziraphale looks at him with the same amount of mischief as moments ago. “I think I might.”

_God, he’s hot._

“Wait over there with Sal.” He points to his cousin, mounting a dirt-bike. Andrew, Jake, Jordan, Alexis, Bri, Beez, and Anathema all mounting the other ATVs or bikes parked beneath the pines.

He squeezes Aziraphale’s hand before bolting towards the shed. Once inside, he starts up his own four-wheeler, and pulls it alongside Sal’s bike.

Aziraphale is in conversation and has his back to Crowley, who takes the opportunity to rev his engine loudly, causing his Angel to startle and turn around. “Hey good looking. Want a ride?”

Aziraphale looks out of breath, with what seems to be excitement, as he straddles the seat behind Crowley. Wrapping his arms from around his husband’s skinny frame, he speaks loudly to be heard over the machine. “Am I about to go mudding?”

Crowley laughs and squeezes the soft hands clasped on his stomach. “Yes, Angel, you’re about to go muddin.’”

Crowley forgets to breath as Aziraphale wiggles against his back.

Regaining his composure, he calls over his shoulder. “Hold on tight!” As they pull out in a roar of engines. Aziraphale moves closer as Crowley maneuvers the four-wheeler around the pond and beyond the tree line.

As they flip around trees and past bramble, Aziraphale buries his face in Crowley‘s back. Pushing in on the throttle with his thumb, and switching gears with his foot, Crowley whizzes past Sal. Not long after he overtakes Andrew and Bri.

Aziraphale’s fingers have gone an unnatural white, as he clutches Crowley’s sweatshirt. “Too fast, Anthony! You’re going too fast!”

Crowley releases the throttle to let the others pass. Andrew and Bri slow down and begin to pull beside them. Crowley waves them on. “We’ll catch up.”

“You sure?” Andrew calls over his three-wheeler’s engine.

“Yeah.”

Andrew gives them a thumbs up, and he and Bri head on their way.

Crowley kills his engine. “You want me to take us back?” He pulls his left leg over the seat. Now side-saddle, Crowley places his right hand on Aziraphale’s bicep.

“No, no.” The blond shakes his head, breathing deeply. “I’m sorry, I panicked.” The corners of Aziraphale’s eyes glisten.

“Hey, that’s okay.” He pulls his right leg over the seat, careful not to hit Aziraphale with it. He now straddles the seat backwards, fully facing his Angel. “We can go dance some more. I really liked the dancing.”

“I ruin everything.” Aziraphale’s head and shoulders slump forward. “Even my own wedding day.”

“It’s not ruined.” Crowley runs his fingers through Aziraphale’s hair, directly above his ear. “Best day ever in my books. I’ve danced with the sexiest man on earth.”

Aziraphale snorts, Crowley kisses the top of his head. “It’s true and didn’t just dance with me to one song. But three.”

He holds up three fingers to accentuate his point.

Aziraphale’s breathing slowly steadies and a small smile begins to quirk at the corner of his mouth.

“And before that,” Crowley continues. “I fooled the poor, sweet, beautiful man into marrying me.” He kisses Aziraphale’s nose. “Way out of my league that one, but he made a promise, signed legal paperwork, so I’m holding him to it.”

Aziraphale lifts his head, and those soft, doe eyes melt Crowley’s heart. “My God Angel, you’re gorgeous. How’d I ever get this lucky?” His voice raspy as he presses their foreheads together.

“I would still like very much to go ‘muddin’” Aziraphale says the last word with an exaggerated accent. Looking down at his hands. “I promise I’ll stay calm.”

“I got an idea, but if you’re at any point uncomfortable, you tell me.” Crowley climbs from the four-wheeler to stand. Patting the spot where he had been sitting. “Scoot up.”

Aziraphale slides forward, and Crowley climbs on behind. Taking his Angel’s hands in his own, Crowley places Aziraphale’s right thumb on the throttle, and his left hand on the brake.

“I’ll shift, you control the speed and steer.” Crowley says, chin resting on Aziraphale’s shoulder.

“I don’t know where we’re going.” Aziraphale looks back at him.

Crowley takes the opportunity to steal a quick kiss. “Just follow the path. If we come to a split, I’ll tell you where to turn.”

Aziraphale nods taking a shaky breath, turning the small key to restart the vehicle.

Crowley clasps his hands over his Angel’s stomach. “Go at your own pace, Aziraphale. We have all night, and I don’t need to spend it with anyone but you.”

He shifts to first gear and Aziraphale pushes in on the throttle. They lurch forward, causing Aziraphale to yelp and release the handlebars.

“Don’t be afraid of the machine. It’s no different than your car.” Crowley nuzzles the nape of his neck.

“Oh it’s very different, I assure you. In my car I’m encased.” Aziraphale frets his hands. “With this contraption I’m in the open. Vulnerable.”

Crowley bites his lip, thinking. “Okay. One more idea, and if you’re still uncomfortable we go back.”

Aziraphale turns his head. “And that would be?”

“You stay right where you are, I drive.” Crowley watches Aziraphale’s reaction. So far, so good. “I’ll hold you in place, keep you safe. You trust me to do that, yeah?”

Aziraphale nods as Crowley returns his own hands to the handlebars. “You tell me when to speed up or slow down. You’re still in charge, even if I’m driving.”

“Thank you.” Aziraphale says softly, as he relaxes his body into Crowley’s.

* * *

**6:15PM**

Dusk is beginning to fall, as the small parade of riders return to the canopy of the backyard pines. Aziraphale is filthy and has never felt more alive.

Once moving to the front of the seat, the fear of falling had slowly dissipated, until it vanished completely. By the time they had rejoined everyone at the large, muddy field, Aziraphale nestled his body firmly against Crowley's, laughing loudly and urging him to go full throttle. They raced, slinging mud, not keeping track of winners. The goal seeming less _I want to be first_ and more _I want to get everyone as dirty as possible._

Crowley had only asked Aziraphale to dismount and stand to the side, when he and Jake agreed they were going to see who could ramp the highest, off elevated mounds of dirt. Aziraphale had, of course, protested, arguing that he would very much like his husband to remain unbroken. Crowley assured him he would be fine.

"Please, Angel. Don't you trust me?

And Aziraphale caved. The ramps are only three feet high after all.

The party begins to dwindle after their return. All family with small children offered congratulations and were gone by 8:00PM. Aziraphale and Crowley continued to alternate between eating and dancing, until the DJ packs up at 9:00PM.

Bri, Shane, Sal, and young Harry stick around to ensure the fire is fully extinguished, and clean up the yard. They’re the last guests to leave around 10:30PM. Crowley walks into the kitchen after seeing the guests off as Aziraphale places the top tier of the wedding cake into the back of the freezer.

"Did you have a good night, Angel?" Crowley's voice finds him from the doorway.

Shutting the freezer, Aziraphale walks to his husband, leaning against the frame. "It was a dream, Anthony." Sliding his hands to Crowley's waist. "Thanks to you."

Aziraphale covers Crowley's mouth with his own, pressing their bodies together. Crowley, pinned against the doorframe, slides his hands to his Angel's ass. Crowley squeezing the ample flesh, when his husband's hands move to unfasten the front of his jeans, releasing his hardening shaft. Crowley gasps, pulling away from the kiss, resting the back of his head against the thin wood.

Aziraphale is mesmerized by the sight of him. Crowley's eyes are closed, long lashes resting against pale cheekbones. Delicious red lips, swollen and wet, mouth open and panting. And the noises, Oh, God the noises as Aziraphale slides his hand across the leaking cock. Aziraphale never feels more alive than when he can elicit those tantalizing noises. When he's responsible for making Anthony Crowley come apart in his hands.

"We should get a shower, darling." Aziraphale whispers against his chin.

"Mhmm." Crowley looks at him, golden eyes glazed with lust.

Aziraphale releases his husband, smiling at his soft whimper, and walks quickly to the other end of the house. Clothes strewn in his wake, he hears Crowley shuffling behind.

Looking back, he sees this sweet man, gathering the mess in his arms. "Anthony, what are you doing?"

"You had some rough moments tonight." Crowley says the word hesitantly. "I don't want you to feel rushed by me, so I'm giving you space until you specifically tell me you need me." Crowley's eyes are wide and bare, and Aziraphale feels as if his insides are melting.

"Oh, dearest." He exhales. "Thank you. But you're not rushing me at all. If you'd be so inclined, I'd very much like to have my way with you in the shower."

Crowley drops the clothes. "I'm inclined. Sooooo inclined. Very, definitely inclined."

"Good." Aziraphale nods primly. "Grab the lube, and get your tight, little ass in that shower."

* * *

**Freedom Baptist Church, Thursday, 1:30AM**

Stephanie Vanderbilt slips through the doors of the church, using the keys her husband had given her. Making a beeline for the alarm system, she flicks on her flashlight and punches in the code. James had told her which areas to avoid. Luckily all security cameras are on the outside of the building, and he has access to them from home. Unfortunately, so does Barney.

Shutting off her flashlight, she makes her way to the pastor's office. She needs to move more slowly to avoid injury, but a light flashing about in the church, may cause some suspicion. Once she gropes her way around the corner, and enters the small windowless room, she feels safe enough to turn the Maglite back on.

Taking a seat at the computer desk, and pressing the power button on the tower, she listens as the machine whirs to life. Finally booted up, Stephanie's relieved to find, Barney hasn't put a password on the device.

Scanning eighty or more icons on the screen, it takes longer than she would like, to find what she needs. Being tired doesn't help her concentrate, but she felt it unwise to attempt this caper during normal waking hours.

"Oh, thank you, God." Praising quietly, as she finally locates the small square listed Attendance and Tithes in the center of the cluttered screen. Scrolling down, she clicks the file for October 18, and hits print. Her nerves rattling as she waits for the impossibly old printer to relinquish the papers.

Making sure to return everything to how it was when she arrived, Stephanie locks the church door and rushes to her car.

* * *

**2:15AM**

Andrew is stirred from sleep by footsteps on his porch. Glancing at his sleeping wife, he quietly slides out of bed and to his safe. Retrieving his pistol, he tip-toes down the hallway, past his daughter's room and into the living area.

Standing at the front window, he pulls back the curtain to see taillights pulling away from his drive. Once the car is good and gone, he makes his way outside. Stepping onto the porch, his foot kicks a manila envelope, the front of which simply reads: **_From a friend_**.


	10. The Good, the Bad and the Dirty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The husbands are off to the town’s Harvest Party, Aziraphale has a panic attack after getting his fortune read, Crowley suddenly becomes ill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title of this chapter is a Panic!At the Disco song . Hi to all my awesome friends who read my stuff, ❤️. Hope you enjoy.

**Saturday, October 31, 6:15PM**

Aziraphale straightens his gray scarf in the oval mirror hanging above the living room couch. His current outfit a stark contrast to his normal palette. Black trousers, black patent leather shoes, gray turtleneck under the scarf, and a black long coat. Looking himself over, he's rather please with the costume.

"So, what d'ya think?" Crowley steps through the archway, behind him, and oh, what a sight to see! Tight dark, blue, stonewash jeans, sleeveless black button up shirt, his normal snakeskin boots, and a dark sleeveless, leather jacket with angel's wings imprinted on the back. Slung across his shoulder a toy crossbow and quiver.

"Why, Daryl Dixon, you've caught me alone with my husband gone." Aziraphale rakes his eyes up and down his husbands lean body. He's certain there isn't anything sexier than his sweet husband dressed as his television crush. "We could have fun with this later."

Crowley grimaces. "Nah. I agreed to this cause I like the show too. Used to idolize the man in fact." Crowley crosses his arms over his chest. "But let me tell you, I'm gonna be extremely uncomfortable if you go thinking about him in bed."

Aziraphale turns to him, in delighted surprise. "Why darling, are you jealous?" He smiles coyly, stepping towards his husband.

"Fuck yes I'm jealous." Crowley takes a step back. "My soulmate and best friend, wants to pretend I'm someone else while making love."

"Anthony, it's just a celebrity crush. It's not like I'll ever meet the man." Crowley flinches at the words. Aziraphale feels a pang of guilt and reaches for his husband. "Everyone has someone famous they fantasize about."

Crowley drops his arms but doesn't reach out in return. "Not me, Aziraphale. It's only you."

Aziraphale crosses his own arms, chin tilted up in defiance. "Oh really?" He raises an eyebrow. "What about the serial killer bloke, from the cop show? The one where his son is a profiler."

Crowley's mouth gapes open, "He looks like you!"

"Excuse me?" Aziraphale is exasperated with this nonsense. "He is old enough to be my father."

Crowley throws his arms out to his side, creating a T shape with his body. "He still looks like you, in twenty years....with a beard."

"He has dark hair in the flashback scenes." Azirapahle knows the argument is weak.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Crowley mumbles under his breath, before bringing his voice back up to a normal level. "His face, Angel. Your faces are practically identical."

_Okay, maybe he has a point_. "Still. You have your crushes, same as I have mine." Aziraphale makes the statement with the air of someone who's won, because he believes he has.

Crowley slumps his shoulders. Stepping forward he places his hands on his husband's biceps. The pleading look in those golden eyes break Aziraphale's resolve. "But I've never wanted to imagine anyone in my bed, except you." He pauses staring into blue eyes, as if searching. "And it kills me that you would want someone more than me."

The words hit Aziraphale like a punch to the gut. Crowley looks so broken, so desperate for confirmation, that he's good enough. "Oh, darling." He places his hands on the sides of Crowley's face. "Of course, there's not another person in existence I want more than I want you. I merely thought it would be a fun game."

"Well, it's not. It's a stupid game." Crowley drops his eyes drop to the floor. "Sorry if I kill your fun."

Aziraphale runs his index finger down Crowley's snake tattoo. "Don't apologize Anthony. It's rather sweet how much you love me."

Crowley looks up and nods. He tilts his head looking Aziraphale over and clears his throat. "You s'pose to be Anti-Aziraphale or somethin'?"

Aziraphale looks down at himself then back up confused. "No, I'm dressed as Damiel."

"Who?" Crowley's eyes rove from his husband's feet to head.

"The angel from **Wings of Desire**." He exhales, a little put out he needs to explain this. Crowley has seen the movie.

Crowley seems to finally get it. "Oh yeah. Your artsy, fartsy, German movie."

Aziraphale rolls his eyes turning back to the mirror. "It's not artsy fartsy."

"If I have to read subtitles, it's artsy farsty." Crowley smirks. "Could just go as Nic Cage from City of Angels. Pretty much the same movie.

"It is not!" Aziraphale turns on him affronted.

"It is." Crowley looks like he is enjoying this. "Artsy, fartsy, German **City of Angels** “.

"The endings are completely different." Aziraphale huffs, walking briskly to the door. "And I do believe it is time for us to get going."

"Alright, let me grab a jacket. Can't have these guns out in cold weather." Crowley flexes, earning himself another eyeroll. "And the endings weren't that different, Angel. She didn't want him instead of dying."

Aziraphale waits until Crowley has his jacket on to throw him the car keys. " Exactly. Much better ending." He says primly, walking past Crowley out the door.

* * *

Crowley searches for a parking spot along Liberty Street. The area is packed with costumed townspeople and vehicles taking every available spot along the road. Hell, some have parked in people's lawns.

"I'm sorry, Angel." Crowley scans the surroundings. "We may need to park further off and walk a distance."

Aziraphale reaches to his left, talking Crowley's hand. "It's such a lovely night, I wouldn't mind walking with you."

Crowley kisses his knuckles, keeping his eyes on the road, careful not to hit a pedestrian. He still can't believe his luck that the sweet, beautiful, patient man in the seat beside him, is actually his husband. Last name and all. Forever. Hell, sometimes he thinks his heart might burst.

Aziraphale gestures back the way they came. "The library lot is practically empty. The only car there is Newt's."

Crowley gives his hand a squeeze before releasing it. Turning off of Liberty Street, Crowley maneuvers the car down a side alley, around to main street, and straight to the library. The parking lot is dark. One of the two street lamps that illuminate each side of the building, is out. Crowley pulls into a space and puts the car in park.

"You and Anathema need to get that fixed." Crowley points to the extinguished bulb. "It won't be safe walking to your car on the nights you close alone."

_Especially if I end up on second shift and can't be here to pick you up._

"I'll get Shadwell on it Monday." Aziraphale and Anathema had agreed to employ the poor man as the library's janitor and maintenance man. It gave him the ability to thrive, in an environment with people who know how to deal with him.

"Good." Crowley exits the vehicle, taking in his surroundings as he walks to his husband's door. When Aziraphale is to his feet, Crowley steps into him, placing a kiss to his temple. "You're really sexy in black."

"Am I?" Aziraphale turns to the side, just enough to push the door closed behind him.

"Oh, yes." Crowley reaches around his Angel's waist, holding him against his side. "But you're gorgeous in anything you wear." Crowley tilts his head to the side. "Or don't wear." They begin to walk along the street as Crowley rambles. "In fact, I really, really like it when you don't wear."

Aziraphale laughs, wrapping one arm behind Crowley's back, laying his other hand over Crowley's heart. "That wasn't a coherent sentence, dear." Crowley looks over at him in mock hurt. "But I know what you meant."

Crowley holds his husband close as they move along the busy sidewalk. Two small girls bustle past, followed by a woman apologizing for bumping into them, while calling for her children to wait. Glancing at Aziraphale, Crowley can see his own thoughts on his Angel's face. "Someday."

Aziraphale leans his head on Crowley's shoulder. "Someday."

Their walk takes less the ten minutes. The Liberty Center is one of the oldest buildings in town. Back in the day it had been a movie theatre when those were new. It closed over fifty years ago, remaining abandoned until the late eighties, when it was renovated and reopened as a venue for parties and local events. Tonight, it hosts the towns annual Harvest Party.

Entering the antique glass doors, the couple step into a dimly lit dining area with large tables, set up to seat eight. It looks out over a large dance floor and stage, on which is a massive sound system and DJ. The dining room, as well as a staircase leading down to where a significant number of dancers mingle, are carpeted in red.

Along the left wall of the dining area is a 6 foot long table, behind which set Anathema and Tracy. Across the table from the women are chairs, and two lines of costumed guests waiting. Behind them hangs a sign:

**Tarot readings $5.00**

**Palm readings $2.00 All proceeds go to Tracy’s House Charity**

Crowley watches Aziraphale’s eyes light up. “Oh, Anthony, I want my fortune read.”

“For charity or for real?” Crowley is being pulled towards the table.

“Both.” Aziraphale smiles back at him. “I left my wallet, can you give me $7.00, I want both types of readings.”

“If you want the real deal, get in Anathema’s line. She’s legit. Tracy’s just playing at it.” Crowley whispers so as not to be overheard.

“I know that.” Aziraphale vibrates with anticipation as Crowley hands him a ten. “I have been friends with both women for a year.”

“Have fun Angel. I’m gonna grab a couple pops and find a place to sit.” Crowley kisses his husband then turns to the other side of the dining area. In the corner of the far wall is a counter with two young people standing at cash registers. Further behind them a full working kitchen.

Crowley orders two sodas and a basket of chili fries before making his way to an empty table. He chooses one beside the railing overlooking the bustling floor below.

Popping open the tab on his soda and scanning the crowd, he notices Sal, Greg, Harry and Jake, have all come as a group. Greg is dressed as a character from his favorite video game, black jeans, black trenchcoat, white gloves and a mask. Crowley recognizes it from watching him play the game.

Harry is dressed as a prep school kid of some sort, he’ll need to ask about that one.

Sal and Jake don a quickly thrown together couple’s costumes. Sal in a bleach blonde wig, blue jeans, white T-shirt with obviously large padding on their chest giving them laughably large breasts. And Jake covered in fake blood, wearing a ski mask and holding a plastic knife.

Crowley spots Alexis (a ladybug) and Mike (a wolf) on the dance floor holding their three year old daughter Sheila(a caterpillar) between them.

Glancing to his left, Crowley notices Aziraphale has finally made it to the front of the line. He takes the seat in front of Anathema, offering his hand. Even dressed in mostly black, Aziraphale brightens the room, giggling, fluttering his hands and wiggling in nervous anticipation.

“Whazzzzzzzup?” Crowley jumps at the voice directly behind him. Spinning in his chair, he’s facing Beez. In a fly costume.

“What the fuck are you wearing?” Crowley cackles with laughter.

They are in black spandex, a weird ass hat with two big red eyes glued to the front and translucent wings attached to their back. They flop down in the chair to Crowley’s right. “Shut up. Think I look good.”

Crowley looks them over. “Yeah, it’s not bad, just never seen you in anything tight. Threw me a little.”

“Where’s our boy?” Beez looks around for Aziraphale.

“Getting his fortune told.” Crowley points to where Anathema has moved on to laying out her cards.

“Looks to be having fun.” Beez’s lip jerks in a nearly smile.

“Yeah.” Crowley watches his husband for a moment more, before turning to Beez. “How’s the shop?”

“Great.” They say dryly. “You weren’t really all that beneficial.

Crowley can’t tell when they’re joking with him or mean the snide things they say. They’ve been friends since high school but sometimes Beez’s friendship is less than friendly. “Thanks.”

Beez shifts in their seat, leaning forward to rest their elbows on the table. “Something’s wrong.”

Crowley turns to follow their gaze. Aziraphale has stopped smiling and is now fretting his hands in his lap. Anathema’s eyes are tender as she reaches across the table to him, before he pulls away, darting towards the door. Anathema holds her hands up apologetically to the line, before walking after him. Crowley recognizes from Aziraphale’s body language the beginnings of an anxiety attack.

“Excuse me, Beez.” He says hurrying past them. By the time he makes his way outside, Aziraphale and Anathema are nowhere to be seen.

“Angel?” Crowley speaks in a normal tone, so as not to alarm the people standing on the street.

Receiving no answer he looks up and down the sidewalk. No sign of them anywhere. As calmly as he can with his own worries coming to the forefront, he begins to walk along the alleyway behind the building.

It’s dark this way and Crowley nearly turns back, but then he hears the soft murmur of Aziraphale’s voice. Rounding the corner, he sees his Angel leaning against the brick building, Anathema standing a few feet in front of him, speaking soothingly.

“The cards can mean many things, Aziraphale.” She coos, as if talking down a hurt animal. “Tell me your question, and I’m sure I can better clarify what they are telling us”

“Angel, are you alright?” Crowley feels awful, as his simple, softly spoken question causes Aziraphale to startle and yelp.

They all stand in silence as Aziraphale catches his breath. Finally, he looks between the two of them. “I’m sorry for my reaction. I do not wish to discuss this any further.”

His body language flips so dramatically, Crowley becomes even more concerned. “Anathema, what happened?”

Before she can answer him, Aziraphale breaks in sharply. “I said no more!”

Anathema looks hurt, and Crowley is confused by the anger in his husband’s voice.

“I’m sure it’s all nothing.” Aziraphale sighs. “I’d prefer not to speak of it again.” Taking Crowley’s hand. “So sorry for my outburst.”

As Crowley is pulled away, he shoots Anathema an apologetic smile. She waves her hand in the universal sign of _don’t worry about it._

Nodding, Crowley allows himself to be led back around the building and through the wooden doors. Beez is no longer at the table, but the food and drinks he had purchased still wait for them.

Crowley helps Aziraphale into his seat. “You hungry, dove?”

“No, I’m fine.” He gives a tight smile, before looking over the railing at the costumed revelers.

Crowley grabs the basket of chili fries, which are cold at this point and carries it across the room to the garbage. He makes eye contact with Anathema who gives him a sad smile as she sits back down to place her cards for the next guest. Crowley considers walking over and talking to her, but decides that would, in a small way be a betrayal of Aziraphale’s trust. If and when his Angel feels comfortable telling Crowley what happened, he will.

Once the food is disposed of, Crowley makes his way back across the room, to a much happier husband. Alexis and Mike sit across from him, their little Sheila in Aziraphale’s lap. He smiles up at Crowley, blue eyes glittering, even in the low light.

Crowley relaxes into his chair, placing his arm around the back of Aziraphale’s.

“Decided not to go with a couple’s outfit either.” Crowley addresses Alexis and Mike while taking a swig of his pop.

“No.” Mike shakes his head. “Couldn’t pick anything we both agreed on.”

“Neither could we.” Crowley squeezes Aziraphale’s shoulder. “So, my dear husband decided for both of us.”

“Oh hush.” Aziraphale squeezes his skinny knee. Sheila decides she wants moved to Crowley’s lap and the two men transition her over.

“Did you see Beez?” Crowley asks, as tiny hands reach for the toy crossbow. “Their outfit is definitely unusual for them.”

“How so?” Aziraphale is genuinely intrigued.

“Yeah, I did.” Alexis laughs. “Saw them leave just a few minutes ago with a kinda attractive blond. Real exotic looking person.”

“Ah.” Crowley smiles, showing Sheila how to line up a toy arrow to hit her father. “Good for them.”

“No one has told me about the costume yet.” Aziraphale gives his husband a dirty look when a small projectile shoots across the table. It bounces off Mike’s forehead causing Crowley and Sheila to cackle like demons.

“Dressed sexy.” Crowley tilts his head. “Well for them. The clothes were tight. The hat was just ridiculous.” He finishes loading another arrow and they lean over the railing, pointing it at Sal standing directly below them. He and Sheila fire and this time it bounces comically off a rather large fake booby. They pull away from the railing as Sal looks up.

“Give me my child.” Alexis is laughing. “I don’t need you turning her into a heathen.

“Too late. It’s in her blood. Can already see it.” Crowley kisses the little girl on the cheek before handing her to her mother.

Sal, Jake and Harry top the stairs and fill the remaining seats. Sal plops down beside Crowley. “Nice shot.”

“Kinda hard target to miss.” Crowley pokes a fake chesticle with a fake arrow. “Those things are terrifying.”

“Yeah, I know.” They swat the arrow away. “Thank God they aren’t real.”

“Can I borrow the crossbow?” Harry asks practically bouncing.

“Sure kid, throw this away for me first.” Crowley throws back the rest of his soda, before handing the teen the can, the plastic weapon and the quiver of soft ammo.

“Thanks!” Harry runs along the railing, tossing the aluminum can in a bin, then stops in position directly above his brother, who is dancing with a pretty young woman.

Crowley points to Harry while looking at Alexis. “See it’s in our blood.”

Crowley is relieved to see Aziraphale laughing. Whatever had transpired earlier, pushed from his Angel’s mind.

“Would you like to dance?” Crowley offers his hand.

“Do you think it’s safe?” Aziraphale gestures to Harry, still on his perch.

“He’s only after his brother.” Crowley stands. “I think we’re good.”

Aziraphale excuses the two of them and follows down the steps. Crowley leads him into the center of the dancing and pulls him close.

Resting his face against his husband’s temple, Crowley speaks softly into his ear. “Are you okay, Angel?” He feels Aziraphale stiffen in his arms. “I don’t need to know any more than that. I just need to know you’re alright.”

Aziraphale pulls him closer, holds him tighter. “As long as you’re here, I’m just fine.”

“Not going anywhere, dove.” No sooner are the words out of Crowley‘s mouth, then he feels like the floor beneath him rolls.

Aziraphale brings his head back, blue eyes flash with alarm. “Anthony?”

“M’fine.” Crowley shakes his head to clear it. “Just got dizzy.”

His Angel’s soft hand cups the side of his face. “You’re very pale dear. You don’t look well.”

As if triggered by Aziraphale’s words, Crowley feels his stomach clench as a wave of nausea washes over him. Without another word he pulls away, rushing across the building and through the doors to the alley. The night air hits him in the face, just in time for the contents of his stomach to painfully surface.


	11. Man of Steel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We see Aziraphale’s tarot reading. Crowley recovers from getting sick, and Andrew thinks over his options from the list left on his doorstep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> : Title of this chapter is a Brantley Gilbert song. Another chapter ending in fluff, because I am obsessed with fluff lol.  
> Also I originally wrote this under my old account well before any pandemic, so all of this takes place in a world without that.
> 
> Hope you enjoy ❤️💚

**One Hour Earlier**

Aziraphale feels his body vibrate with excitement. The venue is absolutely lovely, even with the low lights and spooky decorations. He loves this town and it’s people, how they can come together even with limited resources and create something so festive.

This past week has been wonderful, honestly one of the best weeks of Aziraphale’s life. Really the whole year has been better than anything he’d ever dreamt he could have. Basking in his blessings, and the warm body of his husband pressed against his side, Aziraphale’s joy spills over at the site of two of his dearest friends earning money for a great cause.

He looks up at Crowley patting excitedly where his hand still lays over his husband‘s heart. “Oh Anthony, I want my fortune read.”

Crowley looks at him affectionately, his smile one of besotted amusement. “For charity or for real?”

Aziraphale unwraps himself from the skinny waist. “Both.” He loves it when Crowley looks at him like this, his own smile conveying the same emotions. “I left my wallet, can you give me $7.00? I want both types of readings.”

Crowley leans close to his ear, as if to share a secret. “If you want the real deal get in Anathema’s line. She’s legit.” Crowley’s raspy voice close to Aziraphale’s ear, sending a jolt of electricity down his spine. “Tracy’s just playing at it.”

“I know that.” Aziraphale beams as Crowley hands him a ten. “I have been friends with both women for a year.”

There’s that look again. No one but Crowley has ever looked at him like that. The look that tells Aziraphale this one beautiful man sees him as the most cherished treasure in all of creation. “Have fun Angel. I’m gonna grab a couple pops and find a place to sit.”

Aziraphale’s heart flutters, as the sexiest man in the room leaves a gentle kiss in his hair, atop his hidden scar. He’s not sure if Crowley does it subconsciously, but many of his tender touches seem to focus on the reminder of what they both nearly lost.

Watching slender hips swagger away, Aziraphale takes his place in line. He loves Crowley every day, but there are moments when it strikes him how lucky he truly is. Those moments are both thrilling and terrifying, because for the first time in his life, he has something that makes life worth living.

Aziraphale occupies his time waiting by watching that particular something weave his way through the crowd. He doesn’t need to occupy himself for long. Watching Crowley seat himself at an empty table, he is brought back to reality by Anathema speaking.

“Hey. Palm or tarot?” Aziraphale’s leg bumps the chair and he realizes it’s his turn to take a seat. “I recommend the tarot. Palm readings are vague, showing major life events, but nothing specific.”

Aziraphale looks behind himself at the growing line as he steps around the chair and takes his seat.

“Well, I was going to do both, but let’s just do the cards then.” What feels like butterflies, flutter in his stomach and he finds he’s sweating. “Sorry. I seem to be a bit nervous.....or excited.” He lets out an anxious giggle. “I’m not sure which.” He hands her the ten. “Keep the change.”

“Thanks.” She places her hand over his, now resting on the table. “The cards, although not one hundred percent transparent, will give you more information.” Anathema begins to shuffle her deck. “Think of a question you want answered and hold it in your mind.”

Aziraphale purses his lips, trying to come up with a single question he may want answered. He has too many, he and Crowley have been through so much.

_Will all threats to Anthony and I be done away with and will we finally be left to our happiness_?

He realizes that is two questions, but he has paid the equivalent of two readings, so he’s sure the cards won’t mind.

She sets the cards on the table. “Spilt the deck three ways, anywhere you like.”

Aziraphale bites his lower lip. Anathema’s look of deep concentration is causing him to feel pensive as well. He splits the deck, holding his breath. This is so thrilling, his first time with the occult.

She takes his hand. “Now choose one of the stacks.”

Aziraphale’s eyes flick apprehensively over the stacks. He wants to get this right.

“Don’t overthink it, Aziraphale.” Anathema watches him warmly. “This is about instinct.”

Taking a deep breath in and out, he relaxes his shoulders. “Of course. Sorry.” With his free hand he taps the middle deck.

“Good.” She releases his hand, moving the other two stacks aside. Laying both hands across the remaining deck, she smooths the cards into a fan shape, leaving them facedown. “Choose seven cards, but don’t look at them. Just slide your choices to the side.”

Aziraphale marvels at the thoroughness of the process. Anathema again moves away the rejected cards, and hand him the stack of seven. “Don’t look at them but put the cards in whatever order you want. When you’re done, give them to me.”

Aziraphale shuffles quickly, while watching Anathema’s face. Her eyes remaining fixed on the cards as he mixes them about and slides them across the polished wood.

She flips the first card on the table to his left, the rest are placed to the right of this first card. Cards two and three laying on top of each other perpendicularly creating a cross. Four parallel to one and two. Five, six and seven in a line between him and Anathema, running parallel to card four.

Some of the imagery on the cards is disconcerting. One of a man blindfolded holding two swords, another a man laying prone with swords in his back. A heart with three swords pierced through it, a devil, a burning tower with bodies falling. A man hanging by his ankles from a tree. And the last one, oh Aziraphale doesn’t like the looks of it at all. It shows a knight, visor open and face is skull. It rides a white horse, holding a black flag with a sigil design. At the rider’s feet, bodies are strewn and at the bottom of the card the word death.

Anathema must see the panic flash across Aziraphale’s face. “The cards have many meanings, so don’t let the names frighten you.” She coos soothingly. “When certain cards are placed together, what they are trying to tell us becomes clearer.”

Aziraphale chews on the inside of his cheek, releasing air through his nose. “Go on.”

Anathema nods, touching her index finger to the first card. “Two of swords. Attempting to defend yourself against a threat you can’t see.“

_Well, that sounds fairly accurate_. Aziraphale places his hands palm down on the table to avoid fretting at his nails.

“Ten of swords, an unwelcome surprise or betrayal. The three of swords, heartbreak, separation or grief.” As she describes each card, Anathema moves her index finger from one to the next.

Aziraphale can feel his dread growing. She doesn’t seem to notice, her full concentration on the cards before her.

“The devil, notates a negative force is in your life. The tower, your world will be shaken up or something life-changing is coming.”

Azirphaale suddenly finds it very hard to breathe. His hands no longer press against the table, but are now in his lap, as he absentmindedly pics of the cuticles of his left with his right.

“Oh, the hanged man.” Anathema shakes her head, warm brown eyes glance up to meet his own. “Another card that can warn of betrayal.”

_Betrayal? Who would betray me?_

Some dark monster, deep inside Aziraphale’s soul begins to whisper that he’s had it too good for too long. Questioning, why he should think someone as handsome, as kind as Crowley would want to deal with him for an entire lifetime. Aziraphale knows he’s weak and soft. Too much to handle. He can’t even bring himself to glance and his husband‘s direction.

All lies. He tells himself. Anthony will never hurt me. and the darkness whispers back. _Not on purpose, but one man can only deal with so much._

Anathema lays her hand palm up on the table, as an offering for Aziraphale to take it. He shakes his head, staring at the last card, knowing already this is too much.

“Death.” She says, her eyes pleading. “This card rarely ever means someone will actually die. It can simply mean the ending of a major phase of life and the beginning of something new.”

No matter what it means, Aziraphale doesn’t like either of those interpretations. Life always seems prepared to take everything he loves.

Anathema reaches across the table to him. “What was your question, Aziraphale?”

He doesn’t answer, instead he pulls away and stands abruptly. The back of his calves knocking hard against the metal chair. “Give me a moment.”

Aziraphale turns quickly for the door. He needs fresh air, for the tightness in his chest to be alleviated. Vision tunneling, he pushes through the fragile doors, hearing Anathema calling behind him.

_Just let me think. I need to think._

The air is cold, but he’s sweating, dizzy from the fear coursing through his blood. Crowley wouldn’t betray him, he knows that, deep down he knows.

But who? Is Crowley safe with him? Is this his fault too? All strife they’ve faced has been because of Aziraphale. He brought Gabriel into Crowley’s life. He brought about Hastur and Ligur’s wrath. He’s the one who insisted they attend church. Crowley’s life had been normal before Aziraphale was dropped on his front lawn.

Aziraphale hates himself for how he’s disrupted Crowley’s life. He’s learned to keep those thoughts pushed down, allowing himself to believe he’s actually the reason for Crowley‘s happiness. Sweet brave Anthony, who tells Aziraphale 100 times a day that he loves him. Tells him each and every day that he’s handsome, wanted, worthy.

No. Aziraphale tells himself. Anthony would never betray me. Which means someone else will.

_Or has already._ The thought brings a fresh swell tears to Aziraphale’s eyes as he rounds the corner, and heads down the alley. Because if betrayal has fallen into their lives, Aziraphale knows it is most assuredly caused by his presence. All heartache normally is.

* * *

**Now**

_Just fucking great!_ Crowley thinks to himself as he’s doubled over. _About to start the most important career and mine and Aziraphale’s lives in two days, and I get fucking sick._

Crowley is honestly starting to believe God is out to punish him. He knows he’s not perfect, but no one is. Sure, he was a little rebellious in his youth, questioning authority and such, but he’s never been evil.

Dammit, he’ll push through this, walk through those gates sicker than a dog on Monday if need be. Aziraphale needs him to keep that job.

Crowley hears the metal door behind him open, and footsteps crunch across the gravel. Aziraphale doesn’t need to see him like this. His sweet Angel worries too much already, and here’s Crowley ruining what should’ve been a fun evening.

“Anthony?” A warm hand wraps around his bicep, another placed gently between his shoulder blades. “I’m here darling. What do you need?”

“I’m sorry.” Crowley turns his head away. He can feel the dampness on his chin from the vomit. He reaches into his back pocket for the handkerchief that he’d purchased precisely for this costume.

Aziraphale moves his hand down, retrieving the piece of cloth first. “Don’t be. We all get sick love. Look at me please.”

Crowley turns his head and his stomach still rolls. Aziraphale has just enough time to wipe his face clean, before Crowley jerks away quickly, heaving once again into the alley.

“Oh, you poor thing.” His Angel sounds so compassionate, so worried. “Do I need to take you to the doctor?”

“No, no.” He waves his hand dismissively. “We can’t afford that.”

Aziraphale huffs loudly, Crowley can’t see him, but he knows that sound and the face that comes with it. It’s a look of angry annoyance.

“Anthony, I love you.” Aziraphale’s fingers brush Crowley’s hair. “But don’t be ridiculous. Do I need to take you to the doctor?”

Even through the god-awful nausea Crowley chuckles. “Nah, just got a bug. Think I should go home and sleep.”

“Very well.” Aziraphale sounds unsure. “Are you capable of walking to the car?”

Crowley nods in response. Aziraphale’s lips are warm in the cold night air, as he leaves a kiss on Crowley’s bare shoulder. “Let me run inside and fetch your jacket, and we’ll be on our way.” he steps in front of him, pushing back red hair, sweat soaked and plastered to his forehead. “I won’t be long.”

Aziraphale rises on balls of his feet, placing one more fleeting kiss on Crowley’s brow, before bustling back inside.

Crowley leans his back against the cold brick of the building. His stomach muscles ache, and the nausea remains, but has settled to a tolerable level. He slowly lets himself drift down the wall until he is seated in the loose gravel.

Crowley should be chilled in the cold autumn air, especially in this ridiculous sleeveless outfit. Instead the air feels good against his fevered skin. _I’ll rest up all day tomorrow. I won’t ruin Monday. I won’t lose this opportunity for us._

He must have dozed briefly, because the next thing Crowley is aware of is being startled awake by Aziraphale crouching beside him and cupping his face in his hands.

“M’really tired Angel.” Damn, his tongue feels weird and his mouth is dry.

“Maybe you should run him to the ER.” Comes another male voice. Crowley glances up to see Jake standing over them.

“Perhaps you’re right.” Aziraphale’s words are taut with concern. Crowley looks down to see watery, blue pools, etched with deep worry lines in the corners.

“Really, Angel. I’ll be fine.” His own voice is raspy. His throat is raw from the stomach acid, and he has horrible heartburn. “Nothing a little rest and ginger ale won’t fix. Just get me to the car, I’m starting to get cold out here.“

The other two men help Crowley to his feet, Aziraphale placing his leather jacket over his shoulders. “Come on then. But if you aren’t better by the morning, I’m taking you to the urgent care.”

Crowley doesn’t argue, he doesn’t have the energy for it. Leaning against Aziraphale they begin the slow walk to the car. The street is busy, party still in full swing. “Sorry I messed up our night.”

His husband holds him protectively about the waist. “The night’s not been messed up. I’ve had a wonderful time.”

Crowley lays his head on Aziraphale’s shoulder, and his Angel’s cheek rests against red hair. “Things like this just happen. I’m sure we’ll have plenty more nights like this to make up for it. Won’t we?”

The last two words sound pleading. What a strange question to ask. “Course we will, dove.”

Ten minutes later, Jake and Aziraphale settle Crowley into the passenger seat of the car. Crowley‘s brow nits in confusion as Jake hands him an empty popcorn bucket.

“It’s all they had available.” Jake says apologetically. “Didn’t figure you’d want to risk a mess in your car.

“That’s very thoughtful of you.” Aziraphale pats the man’s arm before closing the passenger side door. Crowley watches as his husband rounds to the driver side saying something he can’t hear. Jake nods and begins walking back to the party.

“You don’t have your wallet, Angel. What if you get pulled over?” Crowley says once Aziraphale is in the car, watching him buckle in and turn over the ignition.

A soft hand affectionately pats a skinny knee. “I’m fairly certain the cop on duty tonight will let me off with a warning.”

* * *

**Sunday, November 1, 12:10AM**

Andrew maneuvers his cruiser through the dark street. His mind occupied, as it has been for the last three days, with the two lists that had been left on his doorstep. One a list of those in attendance at Freedom Baptist on October 18, the other a list of parishioners who partook in the retreat the weekend of the 24th.

Every name matching, besides three, and those three were merely listed as guests. Andrew already knows two of the guests in question, but he needs more information on the third.

He plays his options in his head, as he patrols the now nearly vacant streets. The Liberty Center had closed its doors just over an hour earlier, families having already made their ways home. The remaining costume citizens milling about, most likely deciding where the nights parties would go from here.

Andrew could question Barney Shoemaker again, but after his last visit with the pastor, he doesn’t feel much would come of it. The man is verbally combative and Andrew doesn’t want to deal with the possible pitfalls that may come with it. Barney knows Andrew is Crowley‘s blood and he could see the portly man filing harassment charges, as ironic as that would be.

The Vanderbilt’s would be the best next step, he decides as his cellphone dings with an incoming message. He pulls the cruiser into an empty lot and slides his phone open.

**Alexis:** _You might wanna check on Crowley in the morning. He got sick tonight. Aziraphale had to take him home early._

**Andrew:** _What happened?_

**Alexis _:_** _Don’t know. He was fine one minute and puking his guts out in the back alley the next._

**Andrew:** _Food Poisoning?_

**Alexis:** _That’d be my guess. The kids running the concessions looked kind of shabby._

Andrew chuckles. Alexis never likes to talk too badly about people. For her to call them shabby means, more than likely, the kids were a few days behind in bathing.

**Andrew:** _I’m off tomorrow. There’s a few things I need to handle, then I’ll stop by their house._

**Alexis:** _Let me know. If he does have something contagious I don’t want to bring it to Sheila. Already bathed her good when we got home, because they’ve been playing together. Love ya big bro._

**Andrew:** _I love you too. You are aware I have a little one as well?_

Alexis doesn’t respond, so Andrew clicks the phone screen off and lays it in the passenger seat. First thing in the morning he’ll visit James Vanderbilt and then see if Crowley needs anything.

* * *

**Sunday, November 1, 9:30AM**

Aziraphale slips in through the bedroom door, food tray in hand. Gently setting Crowley‘s breakfast on the dresser, he turns to open the curtains. It’s chilled and raining outside. The perfect sort of day to hide in the house with a book or the warm body of the man you love.

Aziraphale is more than ready to have that sort of day before they both return to the chaos of work the next morning. But first there’s a few nagging questions he would like to have answered for himself, and others he knows he needs to answer for Crowley.

Slipping back into bed, Aziraphale covers his husband’s shoulders in butterfly kisses. He’s mesmerized by the ripple of lean muscles as Crowley shifts beneath the touch slowly waking. “Good morning, love. I made you breakfast, if you’re feeling well enough to eat.”

Crowley rolls to face him, snake like arms trapping Aziraphale in an embrace. “I’m feeling well enough for a lot of things.”

“Is that so? I don’t think you need to push yourself right now.” Aziraphale scoots closer and Crowley pouts. “We will discuss it further after you eat, and we have a little talk.”

Crowley tenses, slowly pulling back. “Have I done something wrong?”

Aziraphale chews his lower lip, as he shifts to set back up. “I don’t believe so.”

Golden eyes dart about in tired confusion. He pushes himself into a sitting position against the headboard. “But you’re not sure?”

“Eat first, we’ll talk once you have something in your stomach.” Aziraphale starts to fold down the thin legs of the tray.

“No.” Crowley pulls his knees to his chest, anxiety etched into his forehead and the corners of his mouth. “I can’t eat when I’m stressed. Just tell me what I may or may not have done.”

Seating himself by Crowley’s feet, Aziraphale trails his fingers along the veins of an exposed ankle jutting from beneath the comforter. “Can you promise not to get angry with me?”

Crowley’s face goes from the look of worry to one of absolute terror. “Fuck, Angel. What’s happening? I was feeling better, but now I want to vomit all over again.” He shifts forward so that Aziraphale’s back is to Crowley‘s chest, his angels body between his legs. On the verge of tears he winds his arms around his husband thick body. “Please don’t tell me you’ve changed your mind now.”

“No! Oh Anthony, no.” _I’m doing this all wrong_. “This is about what Anathema’s cards told me.”

He clasps his hands over the slender fingers clutching his chest. Taking a deep breath and releasing it loudly, “She said someone would betray me. Now, I know it’s ridiculous to even entertain the thought but.“

“But you think it could be me.” Crowley interrupts before he can finish, the hurt in his voice more than evident. Aziraphale feared he would pull away. Instead, Crowley’s embrace tightens and he buries his face in Aziraphale’s back. “Never, Angel. I would die before I’d intentionally hurt you.”

_And therein lies my other fear_. Aziraphale slumps forward. “I’m sorry, Anthony. I know it’s a lot of work to deal with me.” Crowley moves to rest his chin on Aziraphale’s shoulder. “And I’ve brought nothing with me but heartache.”

“Not true, most untrue thing I’ve ever heard.” Crowley nuzzles his neck. “Best thing in my life.”

“There’s more, and none of it was good.” He sinks back as far as possible into Crowley’s body. “She said we would face an unseen enemy and suffer betrayal.” His voice stutters. “A-a negative force will bring about heartbreak, separation or grief.”

He can’t push down the panic anymore. Turning he looks into his husbands beautiful, frightened eyes. “The last card was death.” Aziraphale now finds it hard to swallow.

Crowley snakes his legs around his Angel’s waist. “No.” The word is husky in Aziraphale’s ear.

“She said it doesn’t necessarily mean one of us will die, but the other explanation for the card is _‘the ending of a major phase of life and starting new’.”_

“Not gonna happen.” Aziraphale knows that voice. It’s the same determined voice Crowley had that night a year ago September, as they held each other in front of the sofa. The night he had comforted Aziraphale, when he’d dreamt of Crowley’s death. The same voice that had dared Gabriel Strong to even try to tear them apart.

“No one will take me from you, Angel, and I’ll be damned before anyone but God Herself take you from me.” He runs a finger over Aziraphale’s scar, his voice a mix of pain and loving tenacity.

“Even then, Aziraphale, I’ll storm the gates of Heaven and Hell, burning both to ash to get you back.” Crowley kisses his ear and Aziraphale is helpless but to lean into the touch. “There is no person, no power, nothing and I mean _nothing_ that will stop me from being by your side.”

Aziraphale nods. A broken bark of laughter escaping amongst his tears. He doesn’t know how to respond to that speech. What he wants to do is climb in his husband’s lap and ride him for the next half hour. Logically that action would be unwise, seeing as the poor dear was vomiting not five hours ago.

“How is it you claim I’m so brilliantly articulate?” Aziraphale runs the back of his hand over Crowley’s forehead. Oh, good it’s cool. “When you can put together the most eloquent speeches of love and devotion, while I sit here, thick tongued and incapable of a proper response?”

“I’m just sayin’ what I mean. M’not trying to be fancy.” Crowley glances over at the food. “And I’m also hungry. Whatcha got?”

_Can’t stand to let me compliment him for too long._

Crowley unwinds himself from Aziraphale’s body and pushes himself up against the headboard once again. Aziraphale retrieves the tray, straddling the metal legs over his husband’s lap. “I just hope it hasn’t gotten cold.”

He points to each item as he names them off. “Oatmeal with banana slices, toast and chamomile tea.”

Setting by Crowley’s outstretched feet, taking one onto his lap, he begins massaging into the pads. “The tea will help settle your stomach, the oatmeal and toast should be easy to hold down, and the banana is to help replace any potassium you may have lost. We need to keep your electrolytes balanced.”

Crowley is watching him again. That same look of adoring amusement that Aziraphale pretends not to notice.

“Eat.” Aziraphale urges under the facade of fake annoyance. “Afterwards we will spend the day resting.” Glancing to the window. “It’s very dreary and you have a big day to prepare for tomorrow.”

“That I do.” Anytime Crowley references the new job, it’s always with excitement. But sometimes there’s a touch of fear in his voice. That trepidation emerging just now.

“Not to worry, Anthony.” Aziraphale rolls his thumb along a pressure point near Crowley’s big toe. “You’ll do amazing.” With a quirk if his eyebrow. “And, truth be told, I can’t wait to see you in that uniform.”


	12. Ease My Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley starts his first day at the prison and makes a new friend. Andrew hits a dead end in his investigation. Carmine Zuigiber gets put in her place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this chapter is a Ben Platt song. Also, for anyone curious about the movie they watch, Boondock Saints stars Norman Reedus, who plays Daryl Dixon on Walking Dead. Yup me and Aziraphale still torturing Crowley with that one lol.

**Monday, November 2, 6:45AM**

Crowley stares through the windshield of his car, which is currently parked in the large, brightly lit lot of ACF. Eyes focused on a tall double fence, topped in razor wire, he feels more than a little nervous. It doesn't help that over the past couple weeks Aziraphale has taken an interest in all things prison related, including docudramas. It’s Crowley’s own fault really, no one forced him to sit and watch with his husband, but curiosity had gotten the better of him. The subject matter shown on screen is never the mundane aspects of life behind the walls. Crowley keeps telling himself, those scenarios on tv are the exception, not the rule. The programmers couldn't get viewers without all the drama.

To calm himself, Crowley turns his mind to earlier that morning. Aziraphale had gotten up before him to make Crowley's breakfast, fussing over him in the loving way, only Aziraphale can. The best part came after repeatedly reassuring his Angel he was completely healthy, Crowley had been lucky enough to get some extra special attention in the shower.

Smiling to himself, Crowley unzips the clear lunch bag he had purchased per Diane Brent's instructions. Inside Aziraphale had put pens, and enough food, snacks and water to sustain three people for an eight hour shift.

It had been a short list, Diane Brent had sent him of what he would need on his first day. Ink pens, clear lunch bag, driver's license (or state ID of some sort), and no more than $50 cash. Crowley doesn't see the need to take in any cash at all, with all the food his Angel has put together. He slides his ID into the front pocket of his black slacks, putting his wallet in the car's dash with his cellphone. His watch now reads 6:48AM. Sal had told him it would be best to come in at least ten minutes early.

Crowley grabs his bag, making sure to lock up the car, before clipping his keys to the key holder on his belt. He power-walks across the vast parking lot, smoothing out his crimson button down and new black suede jacket.

The front entrance is a small brick building. An old disused watch tower looms beside it, brick crumbling away. The facility is old, nearly ancient by American standards. Aziraphale had found books on the place (obviously) and had read the information to Crowley one night at home in their little library. The red head curled in his Angel's lap.

_Adena Correctional Facility was constructed in 1852. Originally a military camp, many wounded Union soldiers were hospitalized there during the Civil War. In 1910 it was converted to a federal prison and ran as such until 1967 when the federal government leased it to the state._

_Aziraphale shifted uncomfortably beneath him. "Oh this is sad."_

_"What is?" Crowley tilts his head away from his Angel's neck to peek at the book._

_Aziraphale clears his throat. "The 72 acres of prison sets adjacent to the Serpent Mounds National Park, a sacred religious site of the Shawnee tribe. Many believe the original structures of the facility may be built the sacred mounds, desecrating them, as it was constructed during a time the government was callous towards the rights of indigenous people."_

_"Was callous?" Crowley scoffed._

_"History is written by the victors, not the victims." Aziraphale had let out a heavy sigh._

A sign hanging beside the door reads **, All who enter are subject to search at anytime deemed necessary for the safety and security of staff and inmates.**

_Good to know._

Pushing inside, Crowley steps into a lobby. Restrooms immediately to his left and right, followed on the right by an electronic time clock, just past which is an office with a glass window which flips open and a metal door for entrance beyond that. He can see Sal standing inside, chatting with two other C.O's. One a portly man in his mid thirties, the other a very pretty blonde in her late forties, early fifties. Sal makes eye contact and gives him a wave.

Crowley smiles in greeting and takes in the remainder of his surroundings. Ahead of him a long counter that meets up with the wall on the right and a walk-through metal detector to the left. Behind the counter, placing plastic bins on it's surface, stands a very large man. Not fat, more like a force of nature.

The rest of the space is a sitting area with three long plush benches and a vending machine that dispenses soda. Two other men are waiting, both near Crowley's age.

"First day as well?" Asks one of the men. Slender, attractive, dark features in a black suit. The epitome of tall, dark and handsome.

"Yeah." Crowley offers his hand taking a seat beside him. "Anthony Crowley."

"Raven Sable." His grip is firm, but not painful. Crowley can't help but think he's met this man somewhere before.

"Richard Johnson." Says the other man sitting behind them. His hair is greasy, his shirt has sweat stains and the smell coming from him is not at all pleasant. Crowley's relieved the man doesn't offer to shake.

Sal steps from the office, addressing the group. "We're waiting for one more and then we can get started. I'm C.O. Jennings, this" They gestures to the portly man behind them. "is C.O. Rogers. We will be your coaches during all on-site training."

The entrance door opens, and Crowley's stomach plummets.

"Carmine Zuigiber?" Rogers’ eyes look the woman over.

"That's me." Tilting her head and biting her lip, she offers a limp hand.

Crowley's eyes snap to meet Sal's who is suddenly very confused by the stricken expression on their cousin’s face.

Rogers clears his throat, enthralled by the woman's attention, he takes her hand between both of his. "Pleasure to meet you."

"Okay!” Sal says loudly breaking Rogers trance. They point to the counter. "If you would all sign in with Officer Eichner and show him your license or state ID so he can issue your temporary badges, we'll get started."

Crowley steps to the counter, signing his name and arrival time. Eichner stamps his right hand and gives him a yellow **Staff Visitor** badge.

Sal starts placing their equipment and coat in a plastic tray. "Once you've finished, remove your jackets, belts and anything in your pockets and place them in one of these trays. Then walk one at a time through the metal detector.”

Crowley and the others follow suit. They wait on the other side, while Sal walks to a small window against the far wall. A door to the room beyond the window is encased in a small caged area to the left and a large metal door is to the right.

“This is the control center.” Sal throws what looks like two gold coin pieces in the silver drawer below the window. Turning to the glass. “Small training room set and a radio.”

Returning their attention to the new hires. “This is where we exchange chits for equipment.” They hold up another circular piece of gold. “You will be issued 4 chits each with your names on them. This is so the control center is able to keep track of who has what equipment and keys.”

The tray flips back out, and Sal picks up a ring of keys, and a walkie-talkie. She secures both on her belt, before joining Rogers at the large metal door. After a loud ‘pop’ indicating the door can be opened, the six of them enter a sallyport. A large glass window covers the left wall allowing them to see the two officers in the control center. But more importantly, the control officers can see them. Sal and Rogers show their official prison issued IDs, while Crowley and the others show licenses, temporary badges and hand stamps.

Once everyone is verified the second metal door ‘pops’ and they exit into a large outdoor sidewalk, with fences on both sides. Crowley walks faster as they make their way to a large brick building with tall white columns holding up an enormous portico. He’s trying to lose Zuigiber, who keeps skimming her hand across his own anytime she can get close to him. Catching up to Sable, the two of them fall into step directly behind Sal and Rogers.

“What you’re looking at is the Administration Building.” Rogers turns to walk backwards while speaking. “You’ll be spending most of your first week here, meeting the high-ranking administrative officials. There will be limited inmate contact until we can get IT to issue your man down alarms.” He stops at the 20 foot tall wooden door. “However, when we take you to be sized for your uniforms or get your official IDs, inmates will be present.“ He gestures between himself and Sal. “You must always remain with one of us at all times until you’ve received your alarm systems and complete your self-defense training at the academy.”

Stepping through the door there’s a desk immediately to the left where another officer checks everyone’s credentials again. To the right is a hallway with a series of offices, to the left, behind the desk another shorter hallway. This one ends in a doorway, the sign above which reads **Visiting Room**. Straight ahead is a large iron gate, flanked on both sides by staircases leading to a second floor.

Sal leads them to the staircase on the right. “Once you’ve been issued your alarms, we will give you a tour of the compound. But let me reiterate, you will all still need to stay with Rogers or me until you receive your self-defense training at the Academy.”

At the top of the stairs, is another large area with offices, two restrooms and another metal door immediately to the right. Sal grabs the handle, looks up into a camera mounted on the ceiling. The door clicks, allowing her to push it open.

“This place is a maze.” Crowley muses aloud, finding himself in another hallway lined in offices and earning a chuckle from Sable.

“You think this is confusing, just wait til you see the compound.” Sal says over their shoulder.

After approximately 30 feet, the hallway opens into a square area with two more hallways to the left and right. In the center of the opening is a railing reaching as high as Crowley‘s navel. It blocks off a rectangular area cut open into the floor, allowing them to look down upon another portion of the building and a work desk. Two men in uniforms similar to Sal’s, only their shirts are white rather than gray, stand having a discussion.

“That’s the center of the Captain’s Complex and entrance gate to Death Row.” Sal leans beside him on the rail. “Brass wear white, so those two men are a couple of our bosses.” Pushing themselves off the rail, they move to the first door on the left in the hallway to the right. “Come on.”

Unlocking the door, Sal leads them inside. The room is small, maybe 13 x 18 feet. The left wall holds a long desk containing four computers and chairs. The back wall is windows leading to a refrigerator and microwave in the right corner. Another table and three more computers and chairs set along the right wall. Above the computers are shelves behind small locked doors. Sal walks to a shelf on the right, unlocking it and plucks out four of the folders, before sitting to log onto the computer nearest the fridge on the right.

“Everyone have a seat, while I check my email to get your sign in info for WorkForce.” Sal intently stares at the screen.

Rogers takes a seat to the left nearest the door, Johnson to the left by the window, Sable to the right nearest the door, and Zuigiber to the left, beside Rogers. She looks up to Crowley, smiling coyly and patting the seat beside her.

Crowley scrunches his nose in a silent snarl, before seating himself between Sal and Sable.

“I think she likes you.” Sable leans close to whisper in his ear.

“I noticed.” Crowley shudders. “Not my type.”

“I picked up on that.” Sable gives him a wink.

“I have your employee numbers.” Sal stands tearing small strips of paper from her notebook. “Sign on to the computers first. Your username will be your last names followed by your first two initials. It will then prompt you to create a password, please make it something you can easily remember.”

They hand them each a strip of paper with individually assigned eight-digit numbers written on them. “Once you’re on, we will set up your WorkForce Database, giving you access to your email, report writing, dorm logbooks and your timecard, using this number.”

The next hour is spent setting up signatures and computer access. Afterwards they’re lead to the Captain’s Complex to have photos taken for their official IDs.

“Keep these safe.” Sal hands them each a blue plastic card with their individual photo on it. “Starting tomorrow you will use these to clock in and out. Make sure you are here by 6:55 AM.”

From the Captain’s Complex they are led to the uniform cage, adjacent to the staff vending area. A man who introduces himself as Captain Green, unlocks the doors to give them access to clothing. They won’t receive their uniforms today, as each person’s uniform will be tailored based on what sizes and styles they chose.

After choosing between male or female cut, they are given three sizes of pants and shirts to try on in the restrooms.

As Crowley leaves the clothing cage, Zuigiber whispers. “Need help?”

“Get bent.” He grumbles back, enjoying, only briefly, the look of shock on her face before it, once again, switches to playful intrigue.

The men take a lot longer to get their sizes since three of them have to take turns in the restroom. Once Crowley knows his fit he quickly fills out the paperwork and waits beside Sal.

“You need me to talk with her?” Sal asks as Crowley hands them his paperwork.

“Nah, I’ll handle it.” Sal pats his shoulder and turns to the group.

“Time to meet the Warden.”

Ten minutes later they are led to meet Warden Luke. He talks about his time in the Marines and inquires if any of them are former military. Zuigiber makes an impact revealing she’s former Air Force.

_Didn’t picture her the honorable soldier type._ Crowley thinks, mildly disgruntled at how well she’s getting along.

Next they visit Alex Reeves in IT. He speaks for over an hour, by the end of which he promises to have their alarms issued in the next two days.

Anytime they are pressed into close quarters or crammed into a small office, Crowley sticks closely to Sable. He’s attempting to avoid Greasy Johnson (as he’s so aptly nicknamed the smelly man in his mind) and the uncomfortable touches of Zuigiber.

Twice since leaving the clothing room Crowley has felt her press against him inappropriately before giving a predatory grin and an “Oops, sorry.”

When they leave the IT office it’s just past 11AM, and the middle of the shift. Sal and Rogers return them to the training room so they can have access to their lunches. Stepping past the doorway, Crowley feels Zuigiber’s palm slide across his ass.

Crowley catches the offending hand by the wrist as she walks by. “Can I speak to you, in the hallway?”

Crowley misses the concerned look on Sal’s face as he follows the aggressive woman out the door.

“Yes?” She leans against the wall, chin tilted slightly downward. She looks up at him with just her eyes, in an obvious attempt at being seductive.

_Are there really men who fall for this shit?_

“I need you to understand something.” Crowley keeps an eight-foot distance between her and himself. “Whatever it is you’re trying to do here.” He gestures between the two of them. “Isn’t going to work. I’m very happily married.”

“And?” She pushes herself from the wall. “I already knew that.” She points to Crowley’s left hand. “But I’m sure there are things I can do for you, he’s never dreamt of.” She lifts her right hand to her lower lip, placing a scarlet acrylic nail between her teeth.

Crowley’s taken aback for a moment. As hard as this woman is trying to get in his pants, he hadn’t expected her to have zoned in on his preferences. “I promise you, that you’re wrong. He is the sexiest, most enticing creature on God’s green earth.”

She pauses for a moment and Crowley doesn’t like the way her eyes rake over him. “Have you ever been with a woman?”

Crowley is so pissed, he barely notices Sal standing in the door, watching the entire interaction.

“You need to stop right now.” He warns Zuigiber sternly. “Do you know how many times I’ve been asked that same stupid-ass, bullshit question?” He steps back putting both palms out in front of himself. “No, I haven’t. No, I’m not interested in trying it to make sure. And if you keep harassing me, I will officially report you.”

Zuigiber drops the playful façade. Jaw clinched she spins on her heels, blushing red at the sight of Sal, before pushing past to storm into the training room.

“You okay?” Sal approaches him keeping their voice low. “You handled that perfectly. I just know it might help to have a witness.”

Crowley nods. They stand together in the hallway for a few moments while he collects himself. He’s angry, nervous and stressed from the entire confrontation. Forcing a smile. “This is not the best way to start a first day of work.”

* * *

**An Hour and 15 minutes earlier**

Aziraphale doesn’t hear Beez’s stereo as they pull up the drive, which he finds to be highly unusual. Hoping Beez is alright he makes his way to the car and he notices a blonde in the passenger seat.

_Ah! The mystery person from Halloween!_ He thinks excitedly. Anathema will be so jealous he’s gotten the information first.

Beez steps out of the vehicle leaning their seat up, allowing him to climb in the back. “Thank you ever so much. I know this must be a horrible inconvenience.”

“It’s fine Aziraphale.” He looks at them surprised. They used his whole name instead of the nickname and they sound more terse than usual.

Shifting nervously, Aziraphale offers his hand between the two front seats. “Aziraphale Crowley, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Chalky.” Is the only response he gets from the passenger seat. They don’t return his handshake, or even look at him. And Aziraphale most definitely doesn’t like how this Chalky person seems to be affecting his friend. Sure, Beez is no ray of sunshine, but they have personality, none of which is showing now on their tense face.

After 10 minutes of miserable silence, they finally stop in front of the library. Aziraphale squeezes Beez’s arm as he exits.

“Are you okay?.” He whispers in their ear.

“You need to find someone else to give you a ride.” Their expression is cold, and Aziraphale wracks his brain to think of anything he might have done wrong.

“Mr. Crowley number two!” Shadwell calls from the doorway, bringing him from his thoughts as the Camaro pulls away.

“You can call me Aziraphale, Sargent.” He smiles at the silly old man, noticing how lately Shadwell’s “Scottish” accent has been slipping, either coming out forced and fake or being dropped completely.

“Fraid I can’t. Too hard to say.” He follows Aziraphale through the now unlocked door. “Why wasn’t yer friend blastin their devil music?”

“They had another friend in the car and I think they were forcing them to behave differently.” Aziraphale recognizes that body language and he doesn’t like it on Beez one bit.

“Oh.” Shadwell says quietly, shifting his weight uncomfortably. “Should I start on replacin’ that bulb out front?”

“Thank you Sargent. I and Mr. Crowley number one would appreciate it.”

* * *

**Oak Hill Library 4:00PM**

Crowley pushes open the glass doors, excited to tell Aziraphale about his day. He’s gotten crazy lady to leave him alone and made a pretty cool new friend. His excitement dwindles upon seeing Andrew and Aziraphale standing in front of a bookshelf speaking with serious expressions on both their faces.

“Everything okay?” Crowley slips an arm around Aziraphale’s waist, placing a quick kiss to his temple.

Andrew runs a hand through his dark curls. “I had a list left anonymously on my doorstep of everyone in attendance the Sunday you both attend church. Along with a list of everyone who is out of town when the truck fire occurred.”

“So, who’s our culprit?” _Thank someone, we’re gonna put this behind us._ Crowley feels Aziraphale’s hand clutch his waist.

“Well, I’ve ran into a problem.” Andrew sighs. “Everyone that had been at church, was at the retreat, minus 3 guests.” Pointing to the couple before him. “You’re one and two, but no one I question seems to know who number three is.”

“Oh, I do.” Crowley says to Andrew and Aziraphale’s surprise. “But it wasn’t him. Good dude. He’s the one who called 9-1-1 that day for Aziraphale.”

“And his name is?” Andrew’s eyebrows raise.

“Raven Sable. But I’m telling you, it wasn’t him.” Andrew and Aziraphale stare. Crowley sighs, dropping his arms to his sides. “Met him today, he works with me. New hire too, actually just moved to Oak Hill two months ago from Georgia. I told him he looked familiar and he told me about calling the squad the day of the incident.”

“And how long has he gone to church there?“ Crowley watches the glances of disbelief being shared between his husband and cousin.

“Just the one time.” _Why is Aziraphale looking at me like I burned his books?_ “Don’t look at me like that, Angel. Raven was just visiting too. He didn’t agree with the message for the same reasons we didn’t. He never went back.”

Andrew sighs heavily. “I’ll still need to talk to him Crowley. If he’s on the up and up, it seems like I’m back at square one.” He looks at Aziraphale sympathetically. “I hate to ask this, but is there any reason one of Gabriel’s past associates would come after you?”

Aziraphale stiffens and leans against Crowley. “No reason I can think of. I have none of the money and I can’t see any of them having an interest in my books.” Crowley pulls him close.

Andrew looks as exhausted as Crowley feels. His phone dings, glancing at the message he quickly hugs them both. “I’ll keep digging, as much as I can, when I can. I’m just at a dead end right now. I’m sorry, I gotta go.”

“It’s fine, man.” Crowley pats him on the shoulder as he turns to hurry out the door.

“We’ll be okay, Angel.” He walks Aziraphale into the back office. “I’ve kept you safe so far, whether Andrew catches them or not, no one’s going to hurt you.” Crowley hopes he’s right. He’s determined to be right.

“I know, love.” Aziraphale stares at him thoughtfully. “You’re sure you trust your new friend? You just met him. You don’t normally take to people this quickly.”

“I took to you this quickly.” Crowley slides a hand through Aziraphale’s hair, unable to read the expression that crosses his Angel’s face but knowing it’s not a happy one. “You get off in an hour, how about we see if Anathema will let you leave a little early. I’ll order a pizza and we can watch a movie.” He kisses Aziraphale on the nose. “I’ll give you a massage. Anything you want, dove. Let’s end this night good.”

He can see a little of the spark return to Aziraphale’s eyes. “I’d like that.” His Angel smiles sweetly. “Can I pick the movie?”

* * *

**Crowley Residence 4:30PM**

“ **Boondock Saints**?” Crowley stares at Aziraphale in shock. “You hate action movies.”

“Well.” Aziraphale feigns innocence. “You love them.”

He knows Crowley will eventually catch his ulterior motive, but he hopes it isn’t until they start the movie.

“Heh.” Crowley leans against the arm of the sofa. “S’got nothin to do with Norman Reedus being in it?”

_Shit!_ “Oh, my. Is he?” Aziraphale reaches for the Blu-Ray, misses as Crowley hides it under his back and lays on it.

“Sneaking around to see your boyfriend now are ya? Trying to trick me?” Crowley’s eyes glint, his smile playful. “Welp, if you wanna see him, you gotta get through me first.”

“There’s one problem with that, Anthony.” Aziraphale climbs on top of Crowley, pressing him into the couch. “From this position, I’m inclined to forget Norman exists.” He slips his hands under Crowley’s T-shirt, and along his bare sides. “There isn’t another man I want to look at, if I have the choice of you.”

“Good.” Crowley slides his fingers through blond curls, leading Aziraphale into a kiss.

His Angel obliges sliding his hands beneath his husbands back. Grasping the plastic case with his left hand, Aziraphale thrusts against Crowley’s hardening cock, causing the redhead to gasp and arch his back. Taking the opportunity to free the Blu-ray, Aziraphale jumps up, rushing it to the entertainment center.

“Tease!” Crowley shouts, red and breathless.

“Best to keep you waiting.” Aziraphale looks over his shoulder and wiggles. “It’s more exciting that way.”

“Maybe for you.” Crowley grumbles gaze sliding down to rest on Aziraphale’s rump. “Creepy lady from testing day is in my group.”

Television now showing the disc menu. “I’m surprised you waited this long to mention that.” Aziraphale moves the two fold out tables in front of the sofa. “As concerned as you were that first time you met her, I would’ve assumed that to be some of the first bits of information you’d have shared.”

_Instead of, “Raven has an awesome car collection. Raven likes the same music as me. Raven and I might go hunting together in December. Might save on gas by carpooling with Raven.”_

Aziraphale doesn’t like that he’s jealous. Crowley very rarely makes friends or takes to people. The only friends he’s had before now are family, Beez (who is pretty much family) or people that became friends with Aziraphale first.

“I didn’t want to dampen your mood more than it already was.” Crowley stands to follow Aziraphale as he walks into the kitchen. “Besides, it worked itself out. Told her I was very happily married, and if she didn’t stop I’d file harassment charges. She left me be after that.”

“And are you?” Aziraphale cringes, he hadn’t meant to ask that out loud, it just slipped.

“Am I what?” Crowley stops mid filling a paper plate with pizza.

_Already started this, might as well get it out_.

“Are you happily married?” The look of pain and bewilderment that settles on Crowley’s face, causes Aziraphale to divert his eyes to the floor. “Still.”

“Very much so.” Crowley lays his plate down, stepping closer to his husband. “Look at me, Angel.” He lifts Aziraphale chin with his index finger and thumb. “I told that woman I wasn’t interested. You should know by now, she’d have no chance even if I were single. You have no reason to be jealous.”

“Anthony, I’m not jealous of _her_.” Aziraphale watches as Crowley stands utterly confused for several seconds before the realization dawns on him.

“Raven?” He laughs, wrapping the blond in a tight embrace and shaking his head “Doesn’t hold a candle to you dove.”

“Promise?” Aziraphale mumbles against Crowley’s chest.

“May God, Satan or Whoever strike me dead.” Crowley leans back to look Aziraphale in the eyes. “No man on earth shines as bright as you, Angel. He’s just a cool guy to hang with.”

He kisses Aziraphale on the brow. “Tell you what, we’ll invite him over this weekend and you decide what you think.”

Aziraphale nods, snuggling against his husband’s chest. “Thank you, Anthony.”

“For what?” Crowley rest his lips against platinum down.

“For not getting angry with me. For being so transparent with me.” Crowley’s strong arms feel good around his waist. _He loves me. I know he loves me. Why do I behave like this?_

“Trust me dove. Once you meet him, you’ll realize, there’s nothing to worry about.”


	13. Familiar Taste of Poison

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After checking in with the boys, we have a flashback into the past to let you know of Beez and Chalky’s relationship. We follow their story to the present, when we meet back up with the husbands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope it’s not too confusing the way I did it, we go from now, back to September until back up now. Couldn’t find a great place to work it in earlier, so here’s where it ended up. It’s because of their relationship this chapter has the title it does. Title of this chapter is a Halestorm song. Hope you enjoy. Love you all ❤️💚

**ACF Lobby, Tuesday, November 3, 6:35AM**

Crowley leans against the doorframe of the office in the front entrance building, speaking with the older blonde woman he now knows as Tasha Reineke.

“I told them not to be telling people. I don’t want the others to accuse me of special treatment.” He had specifically asked Sal not to mention they are related.

“Oh, they only told me, and of course Tricia is going to recognize you. But we know not to say anything.” Tasha (please call me by my first name) leans back on her chair. “They’re really proud of you.”

“I’ve got them fooled then.” Crowley laughs. “Sal’s a good person. Always took care of me.”

“From what I hear, you all take care of each other.” Tasha waves as a few non-uniform personnel pass her window.

“That we do.” Crowley looks around the doorframe, as Sal enters the building. “Speak of the devil.”

“That’s you.” They waggle their index finger at Crowley. “You hear the news yet?” They gestured for him to step fully into the office.

“No. What?” He backs in, giving Sal room to shut the door behind them.

“Zuigiber got called in here about 6pm last night. Results came back, she failed her mandatory drug test.” Sal flushes with excitement. Tasha leans forward in her seat, to better absorb the gossip. “Threw her prison ID at Captain Guzman, saying something about ‘this whole deal us bullshit’ and walked out.”

“She got fired?” Crowley leans in closer. Tasha stands to join the huddle.

“Technically quit. They didn’t get the chance to fire her.” Sal corrects him.

“What a relief.” Crowley sighs.

“What deal?” Tasha speaks at the same time.

Sal points at Crowley. “I know right.” Pointing to Tasha. “No clue.”

“Why a relief?” Tasha turns to Crowley expectantly.

“She was trying to get all up in that.” Sal pauses, rethinking their sentence. “Or more like, she wanted him all up in her.”

“That’s gross, Sal.” Crowley curls his lip, crinkling the skin around one side of his nose.

“It’s true.” Sal looks back to Tasha. “Anyway, he told her no, she kept pushing, he threatened to write her up for harassment.”

“What was she on? Was it something that would make her aggressive?” Tasha looks Crowley over. “I mean you’re good looking, but not ‘get written up over’ good looking. Damn.”

Crowley tilts his head. “Uh, thanks.”

“I’ve told you everything I know to this point.” Sal whispers into their huddle. “But when I find out more, I’ll let you know.”

The three of them yelp, moving apart, when Greasy Johnson knocks loudly against Tasha’s closed window.

“He looks cleaner today.” Crowley says, collecting himself.

“It’s cause Rogers told him he’d need to bath every morning if he wants to keep working here.” Sal says, before opening the door to join the others.

Raven steps away from the pop machine, two bottles in hand. He holds one out to Crowley. “Gave me an extra. You want it?”

“Thanks.” Crowley takes it and drops it in his bag.

They follow the same process as the day before, except this time only showing their prison ID’s and clocking in instead of signing in.

On the outside walkway between Control Center and Administration Building, Raven whispers. “Where’s your girlfriend?”

“Failed the drug test” At Crowley’s words, Raven’s mouth tightens into a thin line.

“Did she now?” The words are almost venomous.

“You sound pissed off about it.” Crowley jokes, playfully kicking a rock in the other man’s direction. “You didn’t have a thing for her did ya?”

Raven’s head snaps around quickly, glaring angrily at the side of Crowley’s face for a moment before softening. Crowley misses it, still staring towards the ground.

“No.” Raven’s face looks thoughtful, almost sad, when Crowley looks up to see it. “She’s not my type either.”

* * *

**Oak Hill Library 2:00PM**

“Beez barely knows them.” Aziraphale accepts his deli sandwich from Anathema, as she takes a bite of her own. “How can someone they’ve just met have such a hold on them?”

“Love happens fast sometimes.” Anathema lifts her napkin to her lips, to hide the fact she’s speaking with her mouth full. “You should know that better than anyone.”

“Chalky reminds me of Gabriel, and the people he associated with.” Aziraphale unwraps his own sandwich but doesn’t touch it. “I don’t like the idea of one of my friends being tied to someone like that.”

“Not much we can do.” Anathema lays a hand in Aziraphale’s shoulder. After a few minutes of silence. “Did you see their eyes?”

“No.” Aziraphale stares at his hands, deep in thought.

“They’re weird.” Anathema realizes her misstep when Aziraphale shoots her an angry look. “Not that there’s anything wrong with weird eyes.”

“No, there isn’t.” He doesn’t mean to sound pissy, but he’s got too many things stressing him out and the beauty of (specifically a certain someone’s) exotic eyes is something he’s willing to fight over, even in a good mood. “Chalky wouldn’t look at me. They kept their head turned towards the side window.”

“They’re pale.” Anathema picks up her soda cup.

“Well, yes, that was obvious.” Aziraphale bites. “What does that have to do with their eyes?”

“Goddess! Catty are we?” If one could convey annoyance in setting down a cup, Anathema does so now. “Their eyes are pale. With just tiny black pupils, no other color to them.” She seems to think of what words to use. “They looked filmed over. Like a corpse.”

Aziraphale sucks in breath. “Anathema Pulsifer! That’s just macabre!”

“Might be.” She waves her hand, index finger pointed out. “But wait til you see them, you’ll agree.”

They sit in silence while Aziraphale eats his sandwich. When he finishes, Anathema holds out her hand, in a gesture to throw away his garbage.

“What’s got you in such a piss-poor mood anyway?” She drops the wrappers into the bin. “I know the stuff with Beez, but I can tell there’s something else.”

Luckily the library is currently empty, so Aziraphale doesn’t worry about prying ears.

“First of all, the tarot reading you gave me two nights ago.” She opens her mouth and he knows what she’s about to ask, so he answers before the question is out. “I asked if Anthony and I would be left alone to be happy.”

“I can see how the cards’ response would be worrisome.” Anathema sits beside him, laying her hand over his.

“Well. Now. With that in mind, let me add issue number two.” Aziraphale runs his free hand through his hair. There really are too many things going on right now. “Andrew has hit a dead end on the investigation into who vandalized the truck. He has one suspect, but according to Anthony, that man would never do such a thing.”

“You don’t sound happy about your husband’s judgment on this.” Anathema pushes. “Why?”

“He just met the man yesterday.” Aziraphale shakes his head. “Well, I guess we both saw him two weeks ago, but that doesn’t count.” He’s rambling. He tends to do that when he’s nervous. “Anyway, he just officially met this man yesterday, and already trusts him with his life.” Aziraphale looks up at her, knowing his hurt must be evident from the sympathetic way Anathema stares back. “With my life.”

“Are you sure it’s all that?” Maybe you’re misreading the situation.” Anathema squeezes his hand.

Aziraphale feels on the verge of tears. “I feel like Anthony is suddenly being careless with my safety, and all because he has some instant special bond with this strange man.”

“You fear this new man is more important than you?” Anathema’s face crumples with empathy.

“Yes.” Aziraphale wipes away the tears that have sprung loose from his eyes. “I was special. Now I’m not so sure.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” Anathema stands, walking to his chair, and wrapping her arms around him. “Have you told Crowley all this?”

“I admitted to being jealous, but that’s all.” Aziraphale sniffles. Leaning forward he grabs a tissue from the box on the counter. “He said we could invite Raven over to dinner and I could decide what I think of him from there. If I don’t like him, Anthony says he will keep the friendship as a work acquaintance only.”

“Sounds to me like Crowley still thinks you’re pretty damn special.” Anathema squeezes him encouragingly. “You do know he’s over the moon about you, right? Everyone else can see it.”

“I do.” Aziraphale waves his hands in front of his face, attempting to get rid of the redness. “In fact, when I think logically, I know Anthony would ignore the man completely, with no complaints, if I’d only ask.”

“If you’re this uncomfortable, why don’t you?”

“How absolutely selfish would I be to deny Anthony friends, due to my own jealousy?” Aziraphale shakes his head, horrified at the thought. He stares off remembering the hell and isolation he had been put through with Gabriel. “No, I refuse to control or manipulate him into denying friendships just to make myself feel more in control.” Looking at his lap. “You see, that’s how Gabriel treated me, and I never want to be _that_ sort of man.”

* * *

**Saturday, September 12, 8:30AM, A Month and 3 Weeks Earlier**

Beez pulls the wrecker from the garage at their shop. Jumping from the cab, they shut and lock the large metal door.

They’ve been awake around 45 minutes now. Not that they meant to be on a Saturday morning, but their goddamn phone had rung.

“What?” Beez snapped at the caller, not even checking their caller ID.

“I need your services.” The voice on the other end wasn’t phased at all by Beez’s sharp tone.

“Who is this? How the Hell’d you get my number?” Beez keeps as much venom in their voice as possible. It’s not that they hate people, but most people have always been shitty to them. So as a teen, Beez had just taken on an attitude of shittiness so they could beat everyone else to the punch. Eventually it just became who they are, second nature really.

“Names Chalky, a passerby said to call you. My car has been damaged, gave me your personal number, said it’s your day off.” They sound bored.

“Who gave you my number?” Beez snarls.

“Some kid, didn’t ask his name. I have money, I can make this worth your while, you came highly recommended. But I’m sure I can Google another business.” They sound completely done with the conversation. “You can’t be better than the next person.”

“How much are we talking?” Beez’s interest peaks. They do have a business to run and any extra money (especially untaxed and under the table) is welcome.

“Name your price.”

* * *

**Saturday September 12, 9:05AM**

Beez gasps pulling alongside the old Ford Mustang Cobra. The front end on the driver side beaten in, the tire rim mangled, no longer resembling a circle.

“What the fuck happened here?” Beez leans across the seat to yell through the down passenger window.

“Deer.” Chalky says calmly.

“Deer?” Beez can’t control the smile that spreads unchecked across their face. _They’re beautiful_. “Really?”

Chalky stands unresponsive. Beez finally shrugs and pulls to the front of the old muscle car. “Alright. Keep your secrets.”

Fifteen minutes later they have it loaded and secured.

“Where d’ya live.” Beez tries their best not to stare. “I can give you a lift.”

“Out on Antioch.” Chalky is already climbing onto the passenger seat. “I’ll give you directions.”

“We’ll drop this off at the shop real quick first.” Beez hurries to get behind the wheel and turn the ignition. “I won’t have anyone in the shop to work on it until Monday.”

“That’s fine. I have other modes of transportation.” Chalky types on their cellphone while speaking.

“Yeah? Like what?” _Why I am I being so chatty? What the fuck is wrong with me?_

Beez, of course, already know the answer to the last two questions. They just aren’t comfortable with it. Beez doesn’t date, few times they tried in the past had turned out very badly. But Chalky is just the right combo of aloof and asshole to be interesting.

“Camaro Exorcist and Harley Davidson Street-glide.” Chalky shrugs, as if the two vehicles are no big deal.

Beez is thankful Chalky is looking away. They realize their mouth is hanging open. Maybe asking someone out again wouldn’t be that bad.

_No, you idiot! You’ve been hanging around Zira too long. You don’t get to have this sappy shit._

But Crowley has always been a quiet outcast, certain he’d be alone, unloved in that way. That sappy jackass always acted hard before Zira. Beez knows they and Crowley have always had a lot in common.

_He found his Angel. Why can’t I?_

Beez coughs. “So, about the payment?”

“Yes.” Chalky turns to face them, same look of extreme boredom. “What’s your price?”

_Deep breath, here goes._ “A ride on that Harley, and I cook you dinner?”

Chalky freezes and Beez feels as if they can’t breath. The tension dissipates as a smirk turns up one side of Chalky’s face. “I’d like that.”

Beez doesn’t even fight it, just lets their smile escape. They can’t see Chalky’s text as they watch the road, excited for what they hope lies ahead.

* * *

**Chalky:** _Plans have changed with this one. Looks as if they’ll be easy to manipulate. Might be more useful than originally thought. Check in later with details._

Placing the phone in their pocket, Chalky gives Beez their full attention for the rest of the day, and several weeks thereafter.

* * *

**October 26 8:00PM**

Chalky leans on their sofa cellphone to their ear. “Perfect. So hows your side project going?”

Raven had taken inspiration from Chalky’s happy accident and asked Carmine to seduce Crowley.

“I’m sure it won’t be much of an issue.” Chalky rolls their eyes at Carmine’s attitude, she’e so full of herself.

“So, no luck?” Chalky loves to piss this woman off.

“Well, he certainly didn’t respond the way I’d hoped, but eventually they always do.” Carmine pretends to have missed the jab completely.

“Raven spoke with his man in Columbus, heard he pulled some strings so you all start the same day. Even heard he dropped the results of your first drug test.” Stupid bitch is suppose to stay clean until they finish with this. She’ll have one more drug test the weekend before they start. If she fails it, that’s at the institution level, Raven has no one there to clear up her mess.

“Yes, I start on the second. Should see him again there.” _Course ignore the part about your dumbass almost fucking everything up._

“You think you’ll snag him on the second round then?” Chalky’s pretty sure they’re wasting their time on this Crowley guy with a woman. But Raven seems to think the pretty boy redneck might be putting on an act, hoping Aziraphale comes back into his money.

“Yep.” She says flippantly. “Talk soon.”

Chalky hangs up and walks to their bedroom. Beez asked to come over for breakfast before work the next day. It has taken a lot of convincing to get Beez to agree to keep their ‘relationship’ hush, hush. Chalky blames their hesitance on the area, making the farce more believable.

The information Beez drops in general conversation helps to keep tabs on the targets. Raven wants to play this smart, they need a scapegoat. Luckily Beez had been so worried about Aziraphale attending a local church it seemed a good opportunity for what they needed.

Freedom Baptist didn’t disappoint. Their vitriol making them the perfect scapegoats in whatever tragedy befalls the targeted lovers.

Beez had shown on their doorstep, two nights earlier, hours after the truck burning, full of rage and on the verge of tears. Chalky held them, cooing soft words in their ear, while they cried it out.

They know Beez is in love with them. The poor little bug’s affections making Chalky the boss’ favorite.

* * *

**October 31, 7:23PM**

Beez is all dressed up. Chalky has promised to meet them here tonight in public! This is a major step in their relationship.

Chalky’s pet name for Beez is ‘my little bug’. The costume is an inside joke, and an obviously failed attempt at being sexy. Crowley, the ass, had to make them self-conscious about it.

They’re only angry at him briefly, until they see Aziraphale race out upset and Crowley chase after him. Beez remembers why they’ve learned to respect Crowley. He may be a sarcastic ass, but he treats Zira like a king.

Beez doesn’t follow, although extremely worried, thinking it best to set and keep guard over their friends’ things.

They are relieved when Chalky finally walks in, they’re always so good at listening. They’ll know how to help Zira and make Beez feel calmer.

“Where are your friends?” Chalky stands beside the table.

“Something happened with Zira. I’m setting with their things until they get back.” Beez looks up expectantly. “You wanna sit down?”

“That his soda?” Chalky points to the open can.

“Crowley’s. Yeah.” Beez watches Chalky reach into their pocket and hover a small vial of clear liquid over the can. Beez instinctively smacks their hand, knocking the majority of the substance into the carpet. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“You worthless nuisance.” Chalky growls.

Beez reaches for the can, in an attempt to throw it away. Chalky grabs their wrist, hard. “Put it down.”

Beez stands in shock. “What’s in it?”

“Not your business, and after that little stunt he might get sick to his stomach, but that’s all.” They take the can from Beez with their free hand and place it back on the table. “Now leave with me quietly and they won’t have to die tonight.”

* * *

**November 1, 8:00PM**

For the past 24 hours, Beez has been kept in Chalky’s home, under constant surveillance. From the party, they had been forced to this furnished prison, Raven already there when they arrive.

Their phone had been taken from them before they made it to Chalky’s car. Raven told Beez they had nothing to worry about. He claims he’s just there for Aziraphale’s money. Beez had tried explaining it’s gone, but Raven wants to make certain. He claims he won’t hurt either of them, as long as Beez cooperates.

Beez knows he’s full of shit. Carmine had come in briefly talking loudly with Chalky, before leaving again. From what Beez has gathered, Raven already has all that money, and Carmine expects payment from it. But if they play along, they give Crowley and Zira more time.

Beez makes a play at telling Chalky that Zira expects them to give him a ride to work the next morning. If Beez cancels, they might get suspicious.

The three assholes discussed the issue, deciding that if Beez declines now, along with being absent from work, it might cause notice. They agree on one condition, Chalky ride with them to ensure Beez doesn’t give anything away.

“If you do anything to cause us trouble, you watch him die.” Chalky hasn’t touched Beez since the previous night. But their tone is enough to keep Beez silent.

Beez is at a loss. The most they can hope for, is to convey through their body language and their behavior that something is off. And hope the Zira can pick up on it.

* * *

**Tuesday, November 3, 7:15AM**

Crowley offers his hand to help Aziraphale from the car. “Sorry I didn’t stop by the library right after work.” he wraps his arms around Aziraphale’s waist, leading him to their front door. “But I was putting together a surprise.”

“A surprise?” Aziraphale looks up at him brightly. “What’s the occasion?”

“The occasion is, I am the luckiest man alive, with the kindest, sexiest” he squeezes Aziraphale’s ass, “most stunning husband on earth. And I’ve obviously been failing in making him feel special.”

“You’ve not been failing me, Anthony.” Aziraphale steps aside as Crowley turns the lock.

“I have.” Crowley swings the door open, allowing his husband to step inside. “I promised you that I’d remind you every day how wonderful you are until you believed it. I obviously have more work to do.” He takes Aziraphale’s jacket and hangs it beside his own.

Crowley leads him to the kitchen. The table is covered in dark red tablecloth, and a dozen roses in a glass vase set as the centerpiece. Crowley pulls out his Angel’s chair and gets him seated, before turning to the stove.

Crowley had taken special care with everything. He marinated the steaks overnight in butter and garlic, made baked potatoes and broccoli in cheese sauce. He even drove into Adena after work to find a bottle of Chateau Pontet-Canet.

Setting the plate of food in front of Aziraphale, Crowley moves the two wine glasses he hadn’t owned before today and presents the bottle of red. He knows he’s done well when he hears his husband gasp. “Anthony, that’s a $300 bottle of wine!”

Crowley lean down to kiss pink lips. “You deserve better than this, Angel. You’re worth so much more than I’m capable of giving you. Let me treat you sometimes.”

“Thank you.” The way he’s looking at Crowley is more than enough to justify the dent in his bank account.

They settle into eat. Between bites and compliments on the food Aziraphale asks about Crowley’s day.

“Well crazy lady failed her drug test. When they confronted her, she just up and quit. Threw her ID at a Captain I guess.” Crowley takes a sip of the wine. _Damn this **is** good._

“No!” Aziraphale looks pleasantly scandalized. “That’s too funny.”

Crowley laughs, cutting into his steak. From the corner of his eye, he watches Aziraphale shift nervously. “And your friend Raven. How is he?”

“Good. He agreed to dinner. Asked if he could take us out tonight. Told him no cause I wouldn’t have a chance to discuss it with you first. But I would let him know when you and I agreed upon a day.”

“And did you tell him why you had to discuss it with me?” Aziraphale looks ashamed of himself, which Crowley knows is completely unfair. Aziraphale has every right to come to Crowley for reassurance, without fear of being called out or embarrassed.

“I told him we need to discuss it because of all the harassment we’ve received. So we can maintain our own safety.” Aziraphale noticeably relaxes. “I told him since he had been at the church that day, my cousin would be questioning him, and if he is cleared we’d set something up.”

“Was he upset?” Aziraphale looks in awe.

“Said he wasn’t.” Crowley shrugs.

Aziraphale finishes his meal and Crowley collects their plates.

“I’ll get the dishes, you go relax in the bed. I’ll be there shortly. You decide what you want us to do from here.” Setting the plates down, Crowley cups Aziraphale’s face, caressing his thumbs just below his Angel’s eyes. “Do you know how precious you are?”

Aziraphale steps into him, pressing his soft lips against Crowley’s own. “The dishes can wait. Show me.”

Nodding Crowley leads them both to the bedroom. Walking in reverse, he holds Aziraphale’s hands, admiring the view _. How has he existed for 29 years and never been told how perfect he is, before running into me?_

Crowley directs his husband to the bed before releasing his hands and removing his own clothing. “I don’t need any other people in my life if I have you.” His shirt falls to the floor. “I don’t need any other friends, you’re my best friend.”

When Aziraphale’s eyes meet his, Crowley sees something pained and haunted. “Anthony, dearest, I’d never ask that of you.”

“I know that.” Crowley kicks his jeans and underwear to the side and kneels at his husband’s feet. “And I love you for it. But I’d give up everything to make you happy.”

“Love.” Aziraphale’s voice cracks. Crowley removes the still clothed man’s shoes and socks. “You shouldn’t give that much power to anyone.”

“Can’t help it Angel.” Crowley massages the balls of Aziraphale’s feet with his thumbs. “I’m powerless to tell you no...and I don’t want that power back.” He slides his hands along Aziraphale’s trousers, until they come to rest at his fly. “I trust you with it.”

“I don’t deserve it.” Aziraphale pulls his sweatshirt over his head.

“You deserve more.” Crowley undoes his husband’s button and zipper. “Now lift up so I can get these down.”

“You’re not taking this seriously.” Aziraphale lifts himself off the bed to be divulged of his underwear and trousers.

“When it comes to loving you, I take things very seriously.” Crowley grabs the small tube from the dresser, crawling past Aziraphale, to lay on the bed. “I trust you to never hurt me, or control me, or take advantage of me.” He slicks his fingers. Holding Aziraphale’s gaze, he opens himself up with one hand and strokes his shaft with the other. “I’m not some pushover Aziraphale. You’re the only person I’ve ever given this much of myself to, or ever will.”

Crowley can see Aziraphale hardening, the glassy, lust filled look in his eyes. “Do you wanna claim me Angel?”

“Yes.” Aziraphale exhales slowly.

Crowley removes his hands from himself and reaches for his husband. “Then come take me”

“Are you sure you’re ready?” Aziraphale positions himself between Crowley’s legs.

“We’ve made love every day the past two weeks. M’not gonna get virginal tight that quick.” He leans up to stroke Aziraphale’s cock with his own still slicked hand. “Get in there, Angel.”

Falling back onto the bed, he spreads his legs further apart and bends his knees. Aziraphale lines himself and pushes in slowly. Crowley winds his legs around his husband’s backside.

“I adore you Aziraphale.” Crowley watches his face. _He needs to believe this. I need to make him believe this._

“You’re perfect, dove.” Crowley slides his hands over Aziraphale’s thighs, to his hips and across his stomach before taking hold of his Angel’s forearms and pulling him down. “You’re my heaven.” His hand brushing back curls as Aziraphale begins to slowly move. “If you left me, life would be Hell.”

Aziraphale slides into him perfectly, each movement filling Crowley with pleasure. The swell of love filling his chest with bittersweet pain. And all of it together is almost too intensely painful and the purest form of ecstasy combined.

“Oh, God, Aziraphale. You feel so good.” Crowley moans, body writhing to give Aziraphale deeper access. “Don’t you feel that? How good we are together? How we’re made for each other?”

“I do, Anthony. I-I do.” Aziraphale closes his eyes, picking up speed and plunges down into a kiss.

Crowley can feel the pressure building in his stomach and his chest. He’s so close to coming, so close to his heart bursting with how much he loves this amazing man who has no clue how wonderful he is.

Crowley’s head falls back against the pillows. “F-Forever, dove. You’re all I want. All I could ever want. More th-than I ever dreamt I c-could have.”

Aziraphale thrusts into him hard, threading his fingers with Crowley’s, forcing his hands above his head.

“Shit, Angel!” The possessiveness of the action sends Crowley over the edge. His body clenching around Aziraphale.

“Anthony!” Aziraphale gasps as he releases. Crowley can feel the heat of it fill him as Aziraphale rides out his pleasure.

When he’s completely spent, Aziraphale collapses limply onto his husband. “I’m sorry, Anthony.” He clings to Crowley voice full of emotion. “I’m just so frightened you’ll find something better.”

“You’re stuck with me Aziraphale.” He holds his Angel tightly.

“Thank you dearest. I’m afraid you can’t escape me either.”

Crowley kisses his temple. “I’m holding you to that.”


	14. Something Worth Leaving Behind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this chapter is a Leann Womack song.

**ACF Parking Lot November 4, 6:38AM**

Crowley places his cellphone and wallet in his dash. Hoisting his bag over his shoulder, he begins the trek from the back of the large lot. The air is getting colder, and snow is in the forecast. He hopes he's home when the first snowfall starts so he can see Aziraphale's face. According to his Angel, the first snowfall of the season is 'Magic' snow. It's one of the few things he can remember from his mother, and the way his face lights up when he talks about it, makes Crowley's heart melt.

Weaving his way past his second row of cars, Crowley's attention is drawn to bright headlights flashing at him. Turning he sees Raven, leaning out the window of a beautiful white luxury car.

"Anthony!" He calls cheerily. "Come here. I want to show you something."

Crowley pauses, wondering what Aziraphale would consider appropriate in this circumstance. Walking towards where Raven is hanging out of his car. "Please, call me Crowley."

Raven gestures that he wants Crowley to get into the passenger seat. Crowley nods and walks around.

"Only Aziraphale calls me Anthony." Opening the door, he slips onto the leather seat. "Even the rest of my family call me Crowley."

"Sorry. Does the controlling husband still not trust me?" He chuckles and begins typing on his phone. “It’s really ridiculous how he has you whooped.”

"He's been through a lot.” Crowley bristles. “We both have. And I’d appreciate if you’d not talk about him that way again.”

Raven rolls his eyes. "Noted."

"What'd you wanna show me?" Crowley's a little more than miffed, and just wants to get going at this point.

"The car. You like it?" Raven gestures widely with his hand. "I know you were interested in seeing my collection."

_That was before you poked fun at my husband._ "It's nice."

"Roll's Royce Phantom.” Raven sets his phone in his lap. “It and some money are all I have left, from the love of my life, before he died."

"I'm so sorry." Crowley softens. He had almost lost Aziraphale and that nearly broke him. Losing him entirely would have destroyed him. “How did he die?”

"Murdered." Raven turns to look Crowley in the eyes. "I'd give up every penny and all the cars to take down the men responsible.”

"The cops know who did it?" Crowley glances at his watch. They really should be heading inside, but he feels like Raven needs a moment.

"See, therein lies the problem." Crowley doesn't notice the other person walking up to the car until the rear door opens. "One of them's related to a cop."

Crowley sees the flash of Carmine’s red hair settle in behind him as Raven's words sink in. _Shit, Gabriel. This asshole is talking about Gabriel._

He reaches for the door handle, as Carmine presses cold steel presses against the based of his neck. He freezes, trying to think of a way to stop this. Crowley knows there's no way he'll survive, but if he dies keeping them from his Angel......Aziraphale forgive him, that's what he'll do.

Raven turns the ignition, and as if reading Crowley's mind. "I already have a person outside your house. You try anything your bitch dies."

Crowley can't breath. "Please don't. He didn't do anything wrong. He wanted to leave Gabriel, the money, everything behind. Gabriel came for him. What happened was self-defense."

"Bullshit." Raven's lip curls back over his teeth. "Gabriel told me what was happening before he left that day." His knuckles turning white gripping the steering wheel. "He planned to spend that week with me. But then he suddenly had to leave, that the little gold digger was trying to run off with everything he owned. Threatening to go to the police about Gabe's business, put him in prison. Gabe said he had to handle the issue so we could stay together."

"He lied, Raven." _Listen to me dammit!_ "That money was Aziraphale’s to begin with. He wanted Aziraphale too. Wanted to own him. Hurt him over and over again. He would've eventually done you the same way."

"Shut up, or I make the call." Raven stares ahead, Carmine giggles from behind him.

"You know, you could've saved yourself." She purrs in Crowley's ear. "Raven only wanted the piggy to suffer. To know how it feels to lose you before he dies." She slides her thumb along Crowley's jaw. "You just had to fuck me. Leave him. He would've vanished, and you'd could have lived the rest of your life unharmed."

"Rot in Hell." Crowley jerks his head to escape her touch.

"The most disappointing thing for me is." Crowley can hear the smirk in Raven's voice. "I was going to try next."

Crowley stares in disgust. His whole goddamn life, people have seen him as a plaything. A toy. A fucking means to an end.

"Piss off." Crowley hates them, hates the things they're saying about Aziraphale, hates the ways they wanted to use him. "I'd rather die."

"You're going to get your wish. We still plan on letting your Angel watch." Carmine laughs, mocking the pet name. "Then we'll put him out of his misery."

"I want him to know how it feels." Raven's face twitches. "Wish I had time to drag it out. Leave him to stir in the pain. Drown in it, same as I've had to."

_That's it!_

"You can." Crowley pleads. "Call off your person at the house. Kill me. Dump my body. Just, please, let him live." He watches Raven's face, hoping maybe this would be enough to satisfy him. "Leave him to mourn me. No one will ever know it's you. They'll think it's whoever burned my truck."

"You're so lucky that you're pretty." Raven lays his hand on Crowley's knee and Crowley jerks the leg away. "Because you're not very smart."

"I set your truck on fire." Carmine places her chin on the back of Crowley's seat. "Pipe bomb. Easy to make, hard to trace."

The full scope of the past few weeks hits Crowley like a bat to the head. "It was all you. You planned to frame the church.”

"I planned to do this smart. Have an out, but that all went to shit." The mirth fading from his face. "You had to go and recognize me. Amongst other things."

He side eyes Carmine before returning his gaze to the road.

"You didn't have to tell me where I knew you from." Crowley stares at his lap feeling defeated.

"Couldn't risk you figuring it out. The trust would've been gone." Raven's phone rings. "Still this could've been put off longer if you hadn't gone and snitched to your cousin, letting him connect me to the church." He glances in the backseat to Carmine. "No worries. I'm good at tying up loose ends."

* * *

**6:36AM**

Aziraphale doesn't go back to sleep after Crowley leaves. He’s waiting for the text informing him that his husband has made it safely to work. It's an hour drive, on a major highway, between Oak Hill and Adena, Ohio, and at this time of morning so many things could happen. Deer crossing the highway, drunk drivers, sleepy truck drivers. Aziraphale can never drift back off until he knows Crowley is safe.

Not that he'll ever be safe in the line of work he's chosen, but what can Aziraphale do to stop him. The only way they could ever afford a family is for one of them to be in law enforcement, and they both know Crowley’s made of stronger stuff than himself.

Aziraphale likes to daydream of what life would've been like if he'd come to Ohio from London, instead of Florida. If he had met Crowley and never Gabriel. Of all he could have given Crowley, how he could take care of him, with none of the trauma that's haunted them from the start.

He lets out a relieved sigh when his phone lights up.

**Crowley:** _Made it in, Angel. I love you._

**Aziraphale:** _I love you too. Do be careful._

Aziraphale clicks his phone off. Pulling his husband’s pillow close, he breathes in his scent. _I wish I could make things easier for you._

He starts to drift, just enough to begin to dream, when a knock on the front door jars him back to reality. Aziraphale’s first instinct is to lay quietly and hope whoever it is goes away. That is until they knock the second time.

“Aziraphale! It’s Chalky! Something’s wrong with Beez!” The muffled voice calls through the door.

Aziraphale bolts out of bed. _What did you do to them?_

“Coming!” He calls out pulling on his flannel sleep pants and black hoodie. Aziraphale doesn’t take time to lace up shoes, opting instead for his slippers.

On the other side of the door Chalky stands, eyes wide. Aziraphale feels guilty for shivering at the sight. Oh Lord, Anathema was right. “Where are they?”

“At the shop. I need you to come with me.” Chalky’s hand clamps on his wrist. “They’ve been injured.”

“Of course.” Aziraphale turns. “Just let me get my phone. Have you called emergency services?”

Chalky’s grip tightens. “No time for that, let’s go.”

“What have you done to them?” Aziraphale, frustrated, tries to pull away. He watches as Chalky’s expression flashes from shock to anger. “I know your type. I’ve dealt with someone like you before. We are calling emergency services.” Aziraphale pulls free and heads for his phone.

“Stupid bitch.” Chalky mutters. Aziraphale only makes it a few steps inside before a damp cloth is pressed tightly to his face. There is a sweet taste and smell to the substance and it doesn’t take long for Aziraphale to feel like he’s being pulled underwater. Last thing he hears before the world goes dark, “Now I’ll have to drag your ass.”

* * *

**7:50AM**

“You ready to move him?” Raven parks the car near Jackson Lake’s spillway. He turns in his seat to face Carmine.

“I don’t know why we didn’t just do this in the prison lot?” She argues. Raven attempts to hide the hatred he feels for this woman. He’d chosen to work with her, because Gabe had spoken highly of her ability at using and making weapons. The fact she could be easily manipulated with heroine was a blessing and a curse. It made her easy to control but the stupid bitch was supposed to stay sober long enough to finish the plan.

“We’d garner too much attention.” He can see her car beside the opening of a nature trail.

“You have my money?” She asks, nudging Crowley with the gun. “Get out gorgeous.”

“I do. Your bag is in the trunk. I’ll grab it when we shove him back there.” Raven opens his door and walks to the back of the vehicle.

He notices Crowley’s shoulders stiffen forward. “You try to rush me, pretty boy, your angel won’t survive it.”

Crowley blinks, his eyes flicker in contemplation, before he sags forward with a grimace.

Raven opens the trunk, removing one of the six large black duffel bags. “Get in, Anthony.”

If looks could kill, Raven would’ve dropped dead.

Crowley’s gangly mess of limbs barely fits into the boot of the vehicle. Once he’s inside, Raven slams the lid of the trunk down holding the single bag towards Carmine. “Here.”

“You realize, I’m counting it before you leave?” She walks to her vehicle, gun still in hand.

“Of course.” Raven gives her what he hopes comes off as a disarming smile.

Carmine sits the bag on the hood of her car, sliding the pistol into the back of her belt she unzips the bag and begins to sift through the stacks of cash.

While her back is turned, Raven eases on a pair of latex gloves and reaches into his interior jacket pocket, removing a small syringe. Quietly he slips behind her. Pulling the cap off the syringe with his teeth, he covers the pistol with one hand, as he jabs the syringe into her neck. He watches her face grow pale as she drops to her knees.

“You know.” Raven stuffs the pistol into his own belt. “A lot of heroin these days is being laced with fentanyl.” She stares at him wide eyed as he grabs her under the arms and dragged her into her own car. Propping her up in the driver’s seat, he wraps her fingers around the syringe. “Fentanyl is an elephant tranquilizer. You’ll be gone in less than a minute.”

Raven shuts the car door, retrieving his bag from the hood. He pulls the pistol from his belt, aiming it at the back of his car as he pops the trunk. Large golden eyes watch him.

“Hold this sweetheart.” Raven slings the bag of money at Crowley’s stomach. He hears an “Oof” as he slams the lid shut.

* * *

Crowley is beyond terrified as the full weight of the situation dawns on him. Raven killed Carmine, he could hear the whole conversation from where they have him curled in the trunk. The only person getting out of this is Raven.

_I can’t let him kill Aziraphale._ But what could he possibly do? He doesn’t have his phone. He can’t call anyone.

Sal! Surely if they can’t reach him or Aziraphale after Crowley unexpectedly doesn’t show up for work, they’ll contact Andrew. Raven knows about Andrew, but to the extent of Crowley’s knowledge he still has no idea Sal is relation. If Crowley can stall long enough there may be hope.

Trouble is, where is Raven taking him? Is it somewhere Andrew can find?

After several minutes, the car stops. Crowley can hear what sounds like a large metal door opening, the car moving forward slightly, before stopping again and the sound of the door closing.

Crowley flinches as the trunk opens to show Raven, gun in hand and another person, pale and expressionless. Realizing they are in Beez’s garage he can only assume the other person is Chalky.

“Get out.” Raven gestures with the gun. Turning to Chalky. “Let’s get him settled with the others.”

“I still got lover boy in my trunk.” Chalky tips their head in the direction of a Camaro Exorcist.

“Why the fuck is he in the trunk?” Raven pushes the gun into Crowley’s back, forcing him towards three metal chairs. One is occupied by Beez, arms zip tied to the back of the seat. The other two still empty.

“I didn’t know what they were doing Crowley.” Beez sobs. “I’m sorry.”

“Shut up.” Raven flicks the gun towards Beez’s face as Chalky secures Crowley to his own uncomfortable seat.

“He put up a fight and I don’t have a gun to tote around.” They gesture to Raven’s hand. “Plus, chloroform doesn’t work like it does in the movies.” Chalky walks past Raven, who turns to follow. “The minute I took the rag from his face, he woke up.” They open the trunk of the muscle car. “It does the most damage if you can get someone to drink enough of it.”

Crowley turns as Beez lets out the most pitiful noise.

“Who are you?” Crowley hears Aziraphale ask and his head snaps back to their abductors.

“Raven Sable. Pleased to finally meet you.” Raven smiles.

“Oh God.” Aziraphale is out of the trunk, leaning against the car for support. He looks like they grabbed him directly from bed, golden curls wild. “Where’s Anthony?” He begins to shake at the sight of the Rolls Royce. “Where’d you get that?”

“From the man you murdered.” Raven puts the gun to Aziraphale’s chin and Crowley instinctively fights against his binds, remembering a too similar scene from just over a year ago.

“Chalky right?” Crowley calls out impulsively. The pale figure turns to face him. “He’s already murdered Carmine. He’ll do the same to you.”

Raven takes Aziraphale by the hair. “Now was that very smart to bring up now?” He aims the gun at Chalky’s torso and fires. They stumbled backwards clutching their stomach, as the pool of red spreads across their pale clothing. “Guess Beez could kill them just as easily now as later.”

“What?” Beez looks exhausted and frightened.

Raven returns the gun to Aziraphale’s head, marching him forward. “Well you know, turns out Aziraphale has had his money this whole time. You and Chalky kill him and Crowley to take it. Then you decide you want it all for yourself, shooting your lover.”

“But to make that convincing, you’ll have to leave the money. You’ll have nothing.” Crowley tries desperately to reason with him, anything to kill time. His full concentration on the gun pressed against his Angel’s scar.

“You weren’t listening earlier, were you?” Raven sighs. “I don’t want the damn money. I want him to suffer.” He yanks Aziraphale’s hair hard, causing him to cry out.

Raven turns the pistol towards Crowley, as he speaks directly into Aziraphale’s ear. “Time to say goodbye.”

“No!” Aziraphale contorts his body to the side, grabbing for the gun. Crowley watches terrified at the sound of glass shattering and a bang. Leaving him unable to see or breathe.

* * *

Aziraphale lunges forward when Raven releases his hold. Scrambling through the smoke, he rushes in the direction of where Crowley is sitting.

_It’s a smoke bomb!_ He realizes and a moment later the door to the shop is smashed in. He can hear yelling and a man’s voice giving orders. Not just any man’s voice. Andrew’s.

“Anthony!” Aziraphale calls out, unable to find his husband in the chaos.

“Stay down Aziraphale. Stay out of the way so you don’t get hurt.” Crowley calls to him from somewhere in the smoke.

“We need to move the victims outside!” He hears a female call out.

“Two of them are tied down, give me a minute!” A man says.

“Drop the weapon!” That one’s Andrew.

“Gunshot victim!” Another random voice calls.

Aziraphale feels a hand on his arm. He looks up to see an officer in a tactical vest and a gas mask. “Come with me sir. Let’s get you outside.”

“The person shot is one of the culprits.” Aziraphale coughs out as he is led to the door.

“Gunshot wound is one of the assailants!” Young lady calls to her coworkers.

Aziraphale gasps as the cold November air hits his face. It’s started to snow. First snowfall of the season. Something Aziraphale has always believed to be magical. One of the few memories he has of his mother, is her saying dreams could come true during that first snowfall, the impossible was possible.

“Get my husband and my friend.” He pleads with the Officer.

She removes her mask. “My friends will get them. You stay right here with me.” She’s a lovely girl, with dark hair and warm brown eyes. “I promise you, they’ll be fine.”

Aziraphale notices the two emergency vehicles already parked nearby. The older woman with strawberry blonde hair crouches beside him. “Trouble follows you fellas, doesn’t it?”

“It seems. How did you all know to be here?” Aziraphale watches the door, anxiously waiting for his husband.

The woman points across the street to where Shadwell stands watching. “Crazy lovable oaf sees everything. But too many never see him.”

Shadwell gives a wave, before walking away.

Aziraphale feels the wind rush out of him, as two officers walk out the door, Crowley and Beez in tow.

He pushes past the young officer and the EMT, racing to his husband. Crowley falls limply into Aziraphale’s embrace, sobbing.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Angel.” They cling to one another. “I’m letting you pick all my friends from now on. My judgement is shit.”

“Hush now, darling.” Aziraphale buries his face in Crowley’s neck, so relieved to be holding him. “None of this is your fault. He is an evil man, who tricked you.”

The garage door opens. “We need the medics!” They hear someone call, both turning to watch.

Raven is escorted out the front in cuffs, the look in his eyes is pure evil. _You and Gabriel were made for each other._

Chalky’s limp body is brought out on a stretcher and quickly slid into the back of an ambulance. Within moments the emergency lights begin flashing and they speed away.

Aziraphale registers Beez’s presence, and oh the poor thing looks so lost. Staring at the ground, they appear to be in absolute agony. “This is what I get for thinking someone might love me.”

Aziraphale’s heart shatters. “Oh, sweet Beez. You didn’t deserve this at all.” The two men pull the tiny human into their hug. “You’re family Beez. I love you like my own sibling.” He ignores the tiny sob. “Not one of us deserved any of this.”

Andrew, mask gone, joins the small huddle, draping himself behind Beez. The ridiculousness of the scene causing them to laugh, but they still take several moments before letting go,

“You all willing to answer a few questions?” Andrew asks as they part.

They all silently agree and he leads them to the back of a pick-up. Folding out the tailgate another officer brings each of them a blanket. Aziraphale hands his to Beez, as he cuddles closely to Crowley. The two of them sharing a single blanket, arms wrapped around one another.

Over the course of 20 minutes each of them accounts what happened from their individual points of view. As Crowley finishes his tale, another officer pulls Andrew aside.

Aziraphale lays his head on Crowley’s shoulder, turning his face to his husband’s chest. This is his miracle. His wish fulfilled. To hear Crowley’s heartbeat and feel the lithe body against his own.

Andrew returns a few minutes later with a set of keys. “Seems this Rolls Royce is registered to an Aziraphale Fell.” He smirks as he places the keys in Aziraphale’s hand. “Told my colleagues you drove it here. If that’s so, then there’s no need to search it, being the victim’s car. And the contents inside are yours.”

The car had been one of the first gifts he’d bought Gabriel. He had forgotten it was registered in his name. If that’s true.......”Yes. Yes I most definitely drove that here.”

* * *

**6 Years Later, Easter Sunday**

They had of course sold the Rolls Royce. With that money alone they built a new library structure off their bedroom. It is large enough for all of Aziraphale’s books with room to add more.

The six duffel bags in the trunk each containing $200,000 in cash. With a cool 1.2 million in the bank, Crowley never returned a day to the prison.

They decided on a few more structures. Constructing a garage where the trailer once set. It currently holds a fully rebuilt 1926 Bentley and a chassis for a 1933 Bentley.

They also paid for the repairs to Beez’s shop. Beez and Crowley agreeing to make him a co-owner and partner.

Where Aziraphale’s original library stood, they connected the structure to the house opening doorways off the living room and the kitchen to enter, creating two more bedrooms.

Soon after the incident with Raven, Aziraphale and Crowley booked a visit with a therapist. The first year they did two sessions a week, one as a couple, and the other one on one. They now attend twice a month or as needed, with the same alternating schedule.

Aziraphale kept his job at the library for one more year and then decided to take on another job. A more important job.

He buckles Adam into his booster seat, as Crowley secures Warlock. The boys will soon be five, fraternal twins who were placed up for adoption at birth. Crowley and Aziraphale had fallen in love with them immediately.

Aziraphale places a kiss to his son’s curly hair, before settling into the passenger seat.

“I’m gonna get the most eggs Papa.” Warlock addresses Aziraphale.

“Well, I’m gonna get the biggest.” Adam says haughtily.

“Pretty sure all the eggs are the same size.” Crowley laughs. “You two should work together, not against each other.”

“Why daddy?” Adam’s blue eyes watching, waiting for his father’s wisdom.

“Because your family. And family need to take care of each other.” Glances at his son in the rearview mirror.

The little boy looks to his brother, smiles, then stares out the window.

They continue to chat about the Easter bunny, and the toys and chocolate they had received that morning, until Crowley parks the Malibu. They exit the car to a large open field near the beach area at Jackson Lake.

Oak Hill is holding its annual egg hunt, and the entire town is present. Aziraphale takes Adam in one hand, the boy’s basket in the other, and Crowley does the same with Warlock, before crossing the parking lot.

“Papa look!” Adam exclaims, tugging on his father’s hand. Aziraphale watches as the boy plucks a four-leaf clover. “Good luck for you Papa.” The boy smiles, placing it in Aziraphale’s hand.

“Oh, thank you my sweet one.” Aziraphale takes a knee, giving his son a hug. He hands Adam his basket, as Crowley offers Warlock his. “Go line up with the other children. We’ll be waiting here when you’re finished.”

The children take each other’s tiny hands and run into the fray. Aziraphale weaves his arm around Crowley’s waist. Glancing to his right he sees Barney and Jessica Shoemaker staring daggers in their direction. He turns his eyes back towards his children, trying to ignore the couple approaching them.

“There are children here.” Barney says once he’s within a few feet of the couple.

“Yes.” Crowley turns to face him. “Two of them are ours.” He points to Warlock and Adam placing eggs in one another’s baskets.

“That should’ve never been allowed.” Barney points at the boys, and Aziraphale has never been more ready for a fight. From his husband’s body language it seems he and Crowley are on the same page.

“Since when are you the final say on God and what She wants?” Aziraphale and Crowley turn at the same time towards the voice, to see Jason and Stephanie Vanderbilt.

“I think the Bible is pretty clear on the fact that God is love and love is never wrong.” Jason continues. “Considering you’ve not always been the best husband, I don’t think you have a right to attack one of the few good marriages I’ve seen in a long time.”

Barney stands speechless. Aziraphale removes his arm from Crowley’s waist and walks to them.

“My best advice is to always stop and look at the clovers.” Aziraphale hands them the small green piece of God’s creation. Four petals, deep emerald, with a small vein of white in each extremity.

“Because, just like people, sometimes the things you think are weeds, that need to be pulled and disposed of from society, are actually a blessing that can bring you the greatest joy.” He watches as the couple put together what it is he saying. “If you’ll only take the chance to understand.”

The realization dawns on the wife first, and Aziraphale gives her that smile that lights up the world. “I forgive you.”

Barney sputters, pulling his wife away. Aziraphale looks to Jason. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me.” He offers his hand for both men to shake. “I’m sorry I didn’t do that years ago.”

“Look!” Warlock and Adam rush to their parents. “We worked together and got bunches.”

“You did darlings! You certainly did!” Aziraphale lays a hand atop each boys’ head, leaning in to kiss his husband.

“How did I get this lucky?” He whispers against Crowley’s lips.

Crowley looks into his eyes, his own golden orbs shining. “It’s ineffable, I suppose.”


End file.
